Hacked
by Sciencegal
Summary: Something was wrong. Donatello didn't know what it was. All he knew is it began with that fight. A fight that lead to a more personal battle. A battle for his life. In 2012 Stealthy Stories Fanfiction competition, this story has won First in Best Villain, Tied Second in Best Drama, and Tied Honorable Mention in Best Tragedy/Angst!
1. Prolouge

**A/N:**** Yes, I AM starting a new fic. Thanks for noticing. ;) I know I promised to finish Static before anything, but this fic gets my first BETA! AlexHamato is my beta, for the most part. I'm hoping after this chapter, she'll enjoy betaing me more. I always have so much trouble in beginnings. After talking to Mrs-Raphael-Hamato and one of the brains behind Stoic, I believe I am ready to at least move on. Finally. After weeks fixing this thing up. I'm gonna crawl in a corner and die now from exhaustion. In the mean time, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: All familiar characters (Enemies and turtles alike) belong to Peter Laird and Kevin Eastman. I have unofficially borrowed them for this little adventure. Prepare for the ride ;)  
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><p>Federal agent John Bishop was a patient man. Patient, that is, if things were done in the timely fashion he called for. Behind his dark glasses, he was seething. He wondered if Stockman did this to him on purpose. He strode down long halls with industrial fluorescent lighting casting the walls in bright white. He worked for perfection. Not a single bulb was left dead for long. He passed door after door in a pace spurred on by his rage. Not a single employee – whether man or woman; suited in black or donned in white lab coats that fell around the knees – dared to be in his path for long. Bishop preferred it that way as long as the jobs they had were done on time.<p>

A double door slid open to admit him and he was slammed with the stark difference in lighting. He barely gave time for his eyes to adjust as he went on towards the source of the flickering lights that kept the large room from being completely black. His hip brushed against a table he could not clearly see and he turned to the nearest lab assistant to be his victim. "Are you new? You must be. Otherwise you're incompetence would be worth more than your paycheck."

"I'm sorry, sir!" The man, sounding younger than his appearance first suggested, fumbled in his speech.

"Why are the lights off in this room?"

"Well, sir, they-"

"Change it." Bishop's voice snapped and the young man hurried to do as told. Bishop dismissed the boy for the bigger problem. He found Stockman with his back to the room at a workstation all his own. He didn't waste time for greetings. "You're behind schedule." The calm voice did not betray him. He preferred to keep his emptions hidden and eyes are the window to the soul; hence the glasses. Weaknesses like emotions were for lesser men.

"These things take time!" Stockman said in what Bishop took as scorn as images flashed on the many screens before him. "To collaborate such a machine of this magnitude cannot be done overnight." He never turned to Bishop. His computers were more important than the man supporting his wild ideas.

"It has been a year. I need this in motion tonight." Bishop turned swiftly so his long black coat caught the wind. He had more important business elsewhere in the tunnels of his hidden base and this decrepitated tube of wires and mechanics brought him no pleasure in company.

Stockman muttered darkly under his breath. "You can't rush my brilliance. I am the best of the best. I could be working solo if I wanted to. He needs to appreciate me more. I'll show him. I'll show them all! They will see how far my genius can go!" The light from the monitors caught his smirk.

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><p>The air was cluttered with the clash of metal, the soft pounding of flesh, grunts, and snap of bone. The sound of pressurized steam was a constant reminder where they were. As wood slammed against flesh and bone, Donatello thought of every possible reason why fighting in a nuclear power plant was far from the greatest ideas.<p>

He used his bo staff as a pole, notching it in a gap of the grates, and swung around, using feet to knock the surrounding men away. As he landed, the staff was jerked, sending the grate flying at another group. Following that up with a low spin, he was left standing in the middle of a pile of fifty men. Gunshots sounded around him, alternately deafened with the siren's blaring screech.

Somewhere in the alternating glare of artificial red light, he could hear Raphael's roar. He glanced over in time to see the grated walkway torn from its brackets before Raph sent it hurling towards a dozen of Bishop's goons. Don watched them fall over the cylinder of steaming nuclear waste and knew they were doomed. The resulting splash and sizzle of melting flesh was nearly drowned out by the ear-piercing siren warning of ill-fortune. Don couldn't have thought it more appropriate as he turned eyes away from the grizzly and fascinating sight.

There were too many dangers here. He knew them all. Steam burned hot enough to melt the skin. Narrow walkways offered little protection over boiling tubs of acid. The air itself holds invisible toxins that could – even now – be filling their lungs; filtering through their bodies to begin to slowly decompose. The toxins could become cancerous. A slow death none of their medical knowledge could fix, but Don supposed that would be their fate. Isn't it ironic?

His eyes caught Leonardo next, where a fierce fight against Bishop himself kept his brother busy. Blades split through the air against a man who needed no weapon. Donatello let his mind briefly stray over the unbelievable durability of their suited enemy. The cataclysmic battle soon gathered his attention once again as suited goons seemed to multiply out of the nuclear waste.

Michelangelo's voice pealed over the crowd with unmatched enthusiasm. Donatello caught him swinging from the pipes above like a green monkey. The men he fought found themselves bound in bright yellow hazard suits before they were dropped in much the same way as a monkey would throw its own waste. As bullets ricocheted against piping, scenarios of bursting pipes filled Don's mind. "Get down from there! Do you _want_ your face blown off from one of those pipes bursting?"

"Chill, Don! I'm off, see?" Mike showed dancing palms of innocence as his feet landed on solid ground once again. All sound was caught and devoured by the sirens once again and the brothers shared a quick battle of wild gestures and looks – one commanding and the other careless – before they returned to the battle around them.

Pain erupted behind his head before he knew what happened. His vision swam in shadows and dots of white. Metal scraped against his hands as he blindly caught his fall on what he could only assume was the underlying pipes of the nuclear reactor. It took him more than a second to register what happened. Then he saw Bishop standing where he used to be only moments before. He felt the pipe move beneath his hands and knew. It wasn't going to hold long enough. He attempted to go through what little options he had but none came soon enough. His fears came true. The pipe burst with incredible force and he only had time to register Leonardo's yell, silenced by the blare of the siren, before liquid fire exploded on his skin. He was thankful when the pain subsided with unconsciousness.

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><p><strong><span>AN: Please review so I know I'm going about this the right way. I'm still worried about this baby. ;) Fight scenes scare me.**


	2. The Month After

**A/N:**** I got myself a new beta now. The amazing DuckiePray! I've always been a fan of her fics, and if you haven't read them, you're missing out! I've already started on the next chapter of this fic, so it shouldn't be too long until that's been beta-ed and posted too. That's when things really start heating up! For this chapter, you can look up Enigma's Touchness for reference, as the song artist is mentioned here. The nickname of "Orgasm music" comes from when I played Raph on Facebook with ConnieNervegas playing Leo. It became a running gag with us and I couldn't resist using it here. The movie referenced, "Cowboys & Aliens", is a real movie I'm sure is wildly known about. My roommate bought a copy of it a few months ago and the turtle brother's comments on it in this chapter were something I, personally, was thinking about in a way. I thought it would be fun to have them say their thoughts on it XD It's weird that my author's note is typing in gray. Why is that? O.o Anyway... Read up!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboys & Aliens or anything to do with Enigma's music. I'm just referencing them :D  
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><p>Gunshots and muffled voices echoed through the old pumping station that the turtles called their home. A room closed off from this racket offered little sounds of its own. Even the tantalizing wafts of fresh eggs and bacon could not elicit any noise. But not for long.<p>

The door was opened to admit the loud bangs of the room beyond to permeate the otherwise silent bedroom. Then the light switch was flipped. Blinding white light dotted the vision of the sleeping form unhindered by his eyelids. The blankets moved to cover the groaning turtle. A small part of him knew this could not stay the energetic brother. In fact, it could only make it worse, but that part was hidden beneath groggy thoughts of the sleep he once knew.

The bed creaked as 200 pounds of turtle found its home on the mound of blankets. "Donny! Wake up!"

An olive-green arm reached out and flipped the turtle off, letting him tumble to the hard floor. Sleep was a luxury he was not willing to give up without a fight. He knew he should have been up hours ago, but maybe just fifteen minutes more?

"No, Don! It's like 10:45! You already missed morning practice! I had to team up with sensei! It was a nightmare! I think I might have bruises on my bruises!" Michelangelo rambled off as Donatello took the time to efficiently block his voice out. It was a skill he treasured during moments like this.

It might have worked longer if the strong smell of coffee hadn't chosen to fill the room at that time. Even worse was a sharp pain brought to him by a pressure point he wished he didn't have. Don immediately bolted to a sitting position and shoved the culprit off the bed. Laughter belonging to Raphael soon followed and now he knew who to get revenge on later. Catching sight of Leonardo setting down the mug of liquid love on his bedside table with his own laugh alerted him that the two of them had snuck in without his knowledge.

"Good morning, Don," Leo said, a smirk still dominating his features. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

Don's only response was a grunt and an emotionless glare before the coffee was snatched off the table and sipped at.

"You can't keep this habit of sleeping in every morning. You need to get back into training regularly. Master Splinter said he expects you up with us tomorrow morning. Those burns of yours cannot inhibit you any longer. They are very nearly healed now."

Leo's words had Don's hand drifting to the angry mess of pale green and red splashed against the right side of his head. They didn't hurt anymore, but the skin was tight and it would be a permanent reminder of the power plant fiasco a little over a month ago. He didn't remember the trip home and probably never would, even though his brothers said he did speak to them a few times in delirium. His memory after only began late the next day when the pain of burnt flesh brought him screaming into consciousness.

"Ready for breakfast now?" Mikey's voice brought him back to the present. "If you don't eat it soon, it'll get cold and you know what reheated eggs are, like, never as good as fresh and cold eggs are weird tasting too."

"I could eat it for ya," Raphael said with a smirk. In response, a pillow sailed over at him which he deftly caught without dropping his cocky grin.

"I'll eat. What movie were you guys watching anyway?" Don turned away to the open door where the gunshots and voices were caught in an endless loop.

"Cowboys and Aliens. We just put it in. Wanna join us?" Mikey grinned.

"Yeah, alright." Don lazily waved a hand as he stood, his other hand already reaching for the purple mask draped over an overhanging pipe. He didn't think the mask would interfere with his burns today. He hardly felt them now. He knotted the cloth around his head before putting on the rest of his gear. Only his bo staff would be left behind. Raph was the only one who carried his weapons around the lair.

By the time Don got to sit down and enjoy his late breakfast, the eggs had begun to chill. He winced at his first cold bite. Just the idea of warming them up kept him from doing so. He'd have to deal with it. He supposed it was his punishment for giving into the evil desire of extra sleep his bed taunted him with. He quickly cleaned the foul substance off his plate and sat down to watch the movie with his brothers.

"I'll never understand how this guy gets a phoenix lady and she still ends up dying in the end!" Mikey said about the movie playing. "I mean, come on! She so should have come up at the end all 'I'm alive!' and then happy endings for all!"

"He don't deserve a woman," Raph commented next. "If all my girls kept gettin' killed by aliens, I'd learn ta protect 'em bettah. This guy don't know how ta be a man."

"So you know better, wise guy?" Leo joked, "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Yer no better, fearless. Only girl you can get is yer orgasm music. Been listenin' to any recently?" Raph said as he made an impolite gesture.

Leo turned away in disgust. "It's not 'orgasm music'," He said, stiffly, "Enigma is better quality music than the trash you listen to."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever, Leo," Raph snorted.

Don laughed along with his brothers' conversation though he wasn't fully listening to it. A migraine was slowly forming in his head. Soon, he knew it would start screaming at him for attention. He nearly groaned as he pinched the bridge of his beak to ease it. "I'll be right back, guys," Don spoke softly as he left his seat. He just managed to miss Leo's searching gaze.

The bathroom wasn't far and Don closed the door as soon as he entered it. The noise from the living room died down to a muffle, leaving him to sigh in relief. Already, the migraine dropped in pressure. It was still resolutely there – Don winced at the buzz-like pounding in his skull – but now it was at least bearable.

He left the light off, leaving the room cast in dull yellow from the light-sensitive night light he had installed previously. He took the aspirin off the shelf and swallowed two with a handful of water from the sink. He caught sight of his face in the mirror and frowned at his shadowed eyes and the burn scar marring his face. He looked as horrible as he felt; which wasn't much of a surprise.

He must have stayed in the bathroom too long, for the curse of loud knocking disturbed his quiet retreat. "Don?" The voice belonged to Leonardo. Don sighed.

"I'll be out in a minute." He stuffed the bottle of aspirin in his belt pouch before he left the bathroom, knowing he would need it again later. He hoped this headache wouldn't last as long as his usual ones. He didn't have enough medication for that.

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><p>That night, Donatello joined his brothers on patrol. He decided he couldn't let a small migraine stop him from the exercise he needed. He absentmindedly rubbed his head as he listened to his brothers' hushed tones. They were still trying to determine Bishop's end game. This was the first night since the power plant incident that they had caught suspicious activity.<p>

"It definitely looks like Bishop's men." Leonardo's voice carried over to Don.

"How 'bout a closer look!" Raphael handled his sai with ill-intentions Don could practically breathe. "They be needin' a good ass-kickin'." He didn't say it, but Don knew his brother meant it for him.

"I can't be sure they are doing anything illegal and Bishop isn't one to trifle with without a solid plan." Leo stared down the volatile brother.

"I gotta plan. We kick ass and ask questions later." The solo sai spun with Raph's heated desire for the blood of the enemy.

"You okay, Donny?" Mike's voice distracted from the discussion going on around them.

Don's migraine was beginning to make him nauseous. He didn't respond to his brother's question in words – he didn't trust himself to speak – so a thumbs up would do the trick. He was supposed to be silent anyway; being a ninja in stealth-mode. It should work.

But Michelangelo had gained the attention of Raph and Leo. Now he felt their stares on him as well. This wasn't turning into the best situation for a silent and incredibly nauseous Don.

"You don't look okay, Donatello."

Leo must have caught Don's ill expression. He cursed his brother's perception. The full use of his name also weighed on him. He knew Leo ditched nicknames when he meant business. Raph always joked it was Leo's attempt to play Splinter. Don had to agree on that one. It was as close as Leo could get to their sensei's stern tone. He was only missing the calm that made the tone all the more deadly. That was something none of them could ever be akin to.

"Are you sick?" Leo looked closer at Donny.

"Migraine," Don squeezed out. He stayed as still as possible, his head lying back against the brick rooftop access. If he just stayed like that, the nausea should lessen. It was an adequate attempt. Too bad something out there wanted him miserable. He groaned at his luck. "Sorry."

"Fer what?" Raph growled, quietly. "Fer lettin' us find out yer sick a little late? Well, ya ain't forgiven."

Poor Raph wanted to let out some pent up aggression. So what? Don gave his brother a dirty look for that. It wasn't like it was his fault his stomach wanted to rebel against him. His migraines had never gotten this bad before. How could he have known this would happen? "I'll just head back. You guys can handle this without me." Don slowly pulled himself out of his slump and began the walk back home. It was going to be a long walk. He felt too ill to run just yet. Maybe he could call up the Battle Shell? That might make it an easier return trip. Or it could excite the stomach acids into boiling over. Either way…

A noise to his ten o'clock caused him to glance up in that direction in a start. The only thing he saw was a pigeon flapping along before taking off into the sky. He watched for a moment longer before he shrugged it off. He still needed to get home before he revisited dinner.

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><p><strong>AN:**** Odd that the first A/N was in gray and now this is black! Weird freakyness~. Anyway, please review! Reviews feed hungry authors!**


	3. Diagnosis: Influenza

**A/N: Here's the next chapter for you! I love my Beta. She's awesome. XD Her comments crack me up sometimes. This fic is getting ready for the first break. Stay with me XD I am so cruel to Don :) Writing this is my one joy for the past week. Enjoy it :D**

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><p>Agent Bishop began to pace. The dark city-scape was the perfect back-drop for his mood. The brisk autumn wind bit at his face and whipped his trench coat about his heals in a frenzy. The night was clear. He could almost see the blood splattered across the alley before him. He wasn't happy about the near disaster only hours before. "This is taking too long, Stockman." His voice was crisp as the small microphone of his earpiece picked up the sound.<p>

"The bug takes time to integrate with the system. It cannot automatically work in a day." Stockman's lax voice came back in his ear. "There are defenses it must wear down first before it can begin implementing my instructions. I can do nothing but wait for the signal."

Bishop did not bother correcting the minor slip in authority. "The turtles cost me more able-bodied men. If I lose more, I may have to take a leaf out of your last employer's book."

"I can't make this go any faster. Do you want its system to crash? Then what would you be left with? Nothing! Not like that would be much of a disappointment. Now if you want this plan to work, I suggest giving me peace. You'll get your new toy soon."

The click in Bishop's ear only gave him slight irritation. If only he didn't need the intelligence the skeleton of man still harbored… It was no wonder his previous employer enjoyed removing pieces of the fool. But Bishop needed him. This time, his plan would be sure to meet his needs. He slowly walked to the end of the alley and disappeared into the night.

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><p>Only a week passed and Donatello's symptoms turned into what was akin to influenza. He woke from a dead sleep and carefully ran into the bathroom. His stomach felt queasy and his head swam as he collapsed in front of the toilet. He could feel it in his throat; that sickening bile resting just below his pharynx. If it wasn't for the cough itching to start up once again now that he was awake, he might have escaped the rancid taste in his mouth. He hated throwing up.<p>

He weakly flushed it all away and just rested his forehead against the crisp cool of the porcelain. He coughed as his weary brain drifted. He was still so exhausted… He didn't remember ever being fully rested. Even during the day…

"Donny?"

Donatello jerked upright with such force, the toilet lid banged against its seat. He winced at the ringing it caused to beat against his skull. A migraine was returning in force. He groaned as his fingers pinched the skin above his beak.

"Sorry, bro. I didn't mean to startle you. I just reeeeaaally gotta go! Are you alright?"

Don just stared at his sea-green brother for a long moment. He would have to remember falling asleep in the bathroom offered zero rest. His sleep-dazed mind finally registered Mikey's antsy motion. He carefully stood, wincing again at his sore neck from his bad posture in sleep. The door closed behind him with a snap when he finally stepped over the threshold.

"Hey, brainiac! Ya do know yer room's up there, right?"

Don sighed at Raphael's voice. That was all he needed to know to determine he was the last to wake…again. Leo was always the first. He deemed it one of his roles as leader: wake super early so he could flaunt his incredible morning face at everyone and get extra points with sensei. Donny groaned. "Might just remind myself now…" he mumbled in response to his brother. He glanced forlornly at his open bedroom door.

"Leo'd just wake ya in another twenty." Raph said from the couch. "If ya eat now, ya won't be late for morning practice."

"Is it that time already?" Don blanched before groaning again. "I'm dead."

"The walking dead. Ya look like shit."

Don finally looked up and gave him a dirty look at that. Raph's lazy posture took up two cushions all in his lonesome. Don chose to collapse on the chair instead.

"Make that worse than shit." Raph was staring at him. He could feel it. "Ya ill or something? Stay away from me with that cold. I don't wanna catch that shit."

Just for that, Donny coughed in his direction. Raph recoiled and scrawled at him, giving Don his vindication. He got more comfortable in his chair with his victory. It didn't last long before one of the couch's throw pillows was soaring at his face. Don quickly moved to block it, but was dismayed when his reflexes proved to be hindered by his illness. The pillow hit him full on the face and bounced over his head. He heard Raph's laughter before his glare could land on the red-banded brother. He didn't have time to form a verbal response before he saw Leo's approach from the dojo.

"It's ten minutes to seven. Where's Mikey?" Leo asked as he glanced around the room, a towel hanging about his shoulders.

"Right here, bro!" Mikey emerged from the bathroom with a grin plastered over his face.

Then Leo's eyes landed on Don, who quickly averted his gaze. "Are you up to joining us?" He asked.

"Maybe he should, but I ain't workin' near him," Raph said.

Don didn't have time to make his own response as he caught sight of his orange-banded brother bouncing up to him. Michelangelo's hand rested quickly against his forehead before retreating seconds later.

"Nah, he's too sick!" Mike called, "He's got a fever for sure!"

"It's just a small flu," Don sighed. "I'll feel better in a few days."

"You haven't been able to keep up with us for more than a month," Leo said. "Maybe you should drink some of sensei's herbal teas."

"Yuck, I am so glad I'm not in your shell, bro," Mike commented before walking around the chair to sit on the couch, right on Raph's legs. Raphael immediately kicked him off in response.

"Get yer own spot!"

"You're hogging two!" Mike countered.

"So? I got here first."

Mike grumbled and sat on the far end of the couch instead. Don chuckled at the interaction, setting off a small coughing fit. Oh, how he hated being sick.

"Don't overstrain yourself today," Leonardo said in his calm way. Don just knew he was still worried; probably would until Donny miraculously got better. He knew if Leo wasn't about to head off to morning practice, he would be force-feeding him medicine just with his don't-refuse-me-little-brother look, which unfortunately worked every time. "You'll sit out of training until you feel up to it. As for you two: time's up." That's all Leo needed to seal Don's fate. He could only hope his lab would be kept open to him. Boredom was a killer.

"You haven't eaten yet, right?" Mikey's sea-green face blocked Donatello's vision. The younger brother didn't even wait for a response as he carried on. "You should! I'd make something but Leo the Nazi would get all grumpy and when he's allowed to steam he gets all these evil ideas that I just know will be completely uncalled-for during sparring practice!" He shivered and Don almost laughed at his misery. He would have if he didn't feel so utterly miserable. "I'll totally make it up to you, though! You'll be treated well under Chef Mikey! No skipping dessert either! I'll make your favorite!"

The orange-banded brother was so preoccupied in his speech that he didn't notice the dark green hand coming for his head before SMACK! Michelangelo squawked in surprise before whirling around towards Raphael. "Quit tha chatter, chucklehead. I can't wait ta pummel you in practice today."

"Me?" Mikey laughed, "You couldn't touch me! Only Flash is faster than moi!"

"Jus' did." Raph smirked in turn. "Wanna repeat?" He raised his hand and Mike ducked it, laughing his way to the dojo; almost running into Leo's un-amused form waiting there.

That quickly, Donatello was alone. Sometimes, it was a good thing: the wonderful silence after living in such a rowdy household. Today it only felt stale after all the bickering and laughter he couldn't join in with. A month and a half since much recreation left him feeling antsy. He grew up with an active lifestyle. This had been way too long of a break.

He turned towards the television Raphael had left on. There wasn't much on this early in the morning. The Morning News only held his attention briefly before he grabbed the remote and began flipping through the channels. Only a few moments of that and the flashing lights began to ignite a hoard of angry bees in his head. He quickly shut it off. His eyes snapped shut as bile rose to his throat. He attempted to knead the migraine away with his palm.

Donatello wasn't the spiritual type. He didn't believe in anything science had yet to prove, but at that moment he swore some higher power must really hate him. Maybe it was some twisted entity that humored a morbid desire to kill him with boredom and sickness. And now he was thinking like Mikey. He needed something to right this wrong. Something with numbers. And complicated equations.

With that wonderful thought in mind, he slowly got to his feet and headed to his lab. The sight of his computers waiting for him always gave him joy. This room was his oasis. He easily stepped around the organized mess of electronics and spare parts. Leo sometimes asked how he could live in such a mess, but he didn't understand. Donatello knew where everything was in his lab. It wasn't a mess at all. And Mike's was worse anyway. If there's anyone who needs to clean their room, it was the youngest brother. No one touches Don's lab. No one can take away his paradise.

By the time he sat down at his desk, he was surprised with how many ideas were floating around his head: none. It wasn't right. Usually, just the sight of his computer could grant him a whole flood of ideas cramming in his head for dominance. He must really be ill. The headache that kills all mental processes except general function. What fine luck he had. He wondered if April could be his muse. She was the only one he knew who could follow his train of thought as quickly as he could sprout it. Leo could try, but it usually led to the requirement of patience in both parties. Since the day April fell into their lives, she was the first he would call if he needed technical assistance.

He had conveniently forgotten his shell cell on his desk and took it up without a second thought. He knew April's number by heart, but used the speed dial anyway. He didn't stop to think that she could still be asleep at this hour.

The phone was answered in only two rings: a sign that April had at least been awake. "Hello?" Her voice held a morning scratchy quality, but she sounded spritely enough.

"Hey, it's Don," he responded. "Sorry if I woke you."

"No, not at all!" she was quick to say. "I was already up. Shadow decided she wanted to be an early bird this morning."

Don laughed at the thought of Casey's little two year old from a previous marriage. April sounded cheery no matter how worn out she was. "How's Casey been?"

"He's been in and out." She gushed over a date Casey took her on a few nights back and Don politely listened. He wasn't the only one who could hear wedding bells. Raph had actually seen the ring Casey was keeping stowed away. He had promised the family to get Casey proposing before too long. The guy still knew how to drag his feet.

"So what about you, Donny?" April's voice brought him back to the conversation with a sigh.

"We still have very little on Bishop. We staked out a warehouse his men were stationed at, but all we found were spare parts. It was like they knew we were coming." Don talked like he had been with his brothers, but the fight was only relayed to him when he brothers returned later that day. April didn't need to know he had sat that one out. "I still have my theories, but the project I hypothesize he is attempting to create would need certain materials, and I have no proof he's got his hands on them yet." He coughed a few times before continuing. "I suppose he could easily have already ha-" He broke again with another cough "-had these materials before he started. I need to…"

"Don?" April's soft voice interrupted him. "You sound horrible. Maybe you should rest with that cough."

"I can't sleep. Bishop's out there plotting something big. We have to stop it!" Donatello stared at diagrams and calculations glaring at him on his computer monitor as his vision spotted in white. His migraine was worsening.

"Not while you're sick, Donatello."

And there it was: April's turn to full name him. His day couldn't get any worse.

"I don't want to hear from your brothers how you've overworked yourself again."

It was nice to know someone outside his family cared about his welfare. That was almost sarcasm. "I'm fine, April. It's just a little bug. It'll be gone in less than a week." Don tried to convey how okay he was; which he managed, but not as he wished it to.

"You sound miserable." April's tone had that soft sympathetic lining. Don could just see the pout on her face and feel the hug he knew she wanted to give him. Now if she started saying 'poor baby', he was putting his foot down.

"It's nothing to worry about," he repeated, offhandedly. He leaned back in his desk chair and looked up to the ceiling. Cobwebs draped from the brick. He made a mental note to dust the ceiling later. Klunk liked killing spiders. Maybe he could let the cat hunt in his lab for all of them. That is after clearing out his sensitive equipment…and some fragile machinery. It was hard to trust Klunk after he caught the orange tabby knocking over one of Don's more difficult projects. It took three months, two trips to the junk yard, and forty dollars of his ITT Tech Support savings he kept when he'd quit. He worked for that money! Thankfully, Mikey knew better than to demand money himself. His cat was his responsibility.

"Donny?"

He hadn't realized he'd zoned out, but judging by April's tone, this wasn't the first time she had called his name. "Sorry." Don's voice took on an apologetic tone. "What were you saying?"

"I said I should be going now. Shadow's complaining she's hungry. I'll stop by later today. Is there anything you need?"

"Aspirin," Don said immediately as he tried once again to knead his migraine away. "You're not bringing Shadow, right? I don't want her catching my influenza." He didn't want April to either, but he knew better than to try to stop his pseudo-sister from pampering him. It never ended well. She was one feisty redhead. Don was glad she at least wasn't as bad as brothers.

"Casey's taking her this afternoon. He wanted her to see her first hockey game." A child's voice interrupted her then and April sighed. "I have to go now. Get better, okay? Get some rest and stay out of trouble. I'll hear about it if you don't."

"Yeah, alright." Don sighed at her mothering tone. "Say hi to Shadow for me. Bye."

"Will do. Bye, Donny."

The click in his ear told him she hung up before he did the same. Now he had to find something else to do to keep his mind occupied…

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><p>April didn't notice that she wasn't alone with Shadow. She didn't know she was being watched. If she had known, she would have told the turtles long before Bishop moved his pawns into action. This only fell into the federal agent's plans well. If things needed to be rushed, he knew just how to get it done without revealing his true plan. It will be flawless. He was sure of it. Nothing could go wrong.<p>

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><p><strong><span>AN: Once again, I have to thank Duckiepray for her patience to go over this and find all my hilarious typos before they're publicized. Now I demand reviews! Reviews feed hungry writers! And it might interest me in reading the fics of the reviewer. How about that for motivation? :D**


	4. Disaster Strikes

**A/N:**** Here's another chapter beta-ed by my favorite writer, Duckiepray. I won't hold your attention in reading this author's note for long. Just enjoy the chaos XD **

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><p>The plan had been set a month ago. The tail was the perfect back-up plan before Agent Bishop even knew he would need one. He never cared to wait on his underlings to drag him down to ruin. He was always prepared. All he needed was one phone call and the pawns would be set on the queen. He knew how important she was to the infestation.<p>

He took out his cell and made the call. "Begin project April Showers." He remained stoic on the outside, but inside his pleasure was growing. Now the waiting would be more tolerable.

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><p>Donatello woke to silence. He didn't think much of it. He hadn't been sleeping well since the power plant fiasco. He guessed it must still be early. His fatigue didn't help this assumption. It wasn't until he turned towards his digital clock that he realized his mistake.<p>

"Twelve twenty-eight…PM?" Don stared at the red illuminated numbers in astonishment. His brothers let him sleep in this late? He couldn't believe it. He slowly sat up at the edge of his bed, still waiting for the numbers to change now that he was more awake. It didn't work. The clock stayed resolutely at 28 minutes after noon. That is until it became 12:29.

He heard the soft mew before his eyes cast down to the orange tabby slinking into the room on silent paws. The sight of the cat told Donny that Michelangelo was plainly not around. Klunk always preferred his owner's company to the rest of them when given a choice. Don was curious where he brother could be at this hour.

Klunk hopped onto the bed next to Don and proceeded to roughly rub his furry head and wet nose along the turtle's arm. Don knew the cat would not stop until his desires were granted. Donatello briefly wondered on the demanding nature of cats as he gave in to rubbing the feline behind his ears. Then his mind wandered to other matters.

He knew he couldn't have influenza. A month and a half had passed since he had first felt the symptoms and he was still ill. The flu never lasted that long. It wasn't even letting up at all yet. The fatigue made it worse. He felt weighed down by gravity so thoroughly; he was surprised he could sit up so well. A fog filled his head and drifted across his vision. This wasn't a good sign at all.

A cough started up as Klunk happily kneaded his front claws against Don's leg. Donatello quickly covered his beak with his fist. The cough only grew in power. Don lost himself in it for a moment, barely noticing the desperate clawing against his leg as Klunk fell to the floor in result. He couldn't get a decent breath of air to clear his throat.

He forced his lungs to draw in air and finally gained control with a gasp. His throat felt raw from the ravaging cough. As he breathed, his eyes caught the glistening red speckling his fist. His breathing hitched at the sight. Blood. His blood. He was coughing up _blood_. He knew that wasn't a good sign. He tried to brush it off as a result of coughing so hard that he burst a minor blood vessel in his throat. It was a perfectly reasonable assumption. He could go with that.

But something nagged at him that it was more. Donatello never left things to chance. He was a thinker; a dreamer; a planner. He worked with certainties and probabilities of proofs. He lived for experimentation until the doubts were nothing but memories. He couldn't settle on leaving anything without a thorough examination to remove the possibility for a false diagnosis. This could be a symptom of something far more serious than his raw throat. It could have terminal consequences. It could be a warning of something bigger. It could be…

Donatello bolted from his bed with energy he didn't have. His limbs barely cooperated with him as he stumbled down the hall into the silent main area and straight to his lab. He had to know for sure what was ailing him. He hated a mystery he could not solve. He needed to solve this. He needed answers. He was going to get them. He scrambled around his desks and cabinets with one object in mind: a microscope that April had lent to him a year ago.

Glass shattered against the ground by a careless sweep of his hand. He could just see the top of the powerful table-top scanning electron microscope hidden under blueprints of future projects. He snatched it up, this time with a lot more care than the coffee mug had received, and set it up. He nicked his own finger with a shard of the mug and put a slide together before slipping it onto the viewing platform. All that was left was to look through the lens without letting his frantic suspicion get the best of him.

He didn't know what he was looking for. He was an engineer. Not a doctor or a scientist. He built machines and repaired equipment. His knowledge of the biological was limited to the first aid all his family knew and the little extra knowledge he gained by curiosity. Not enough to adequately diagnose himself with anything above the common cold or flu. He didn't know what this was going to tell him. Maybe he would need April later to help him where computers could not. But not now. He didn't have enough yet. Just suspicions. And a distinct lack of the common blood signs of the flu he thought he had.

He cross-referenced his findings with his computer. And found nothing. Too much nothing. In one drop of blood, the average person had 4.5-5.5 million red blood cells per microliter and 5,000-10,000 white blood cells per cubic millimeter. He had only half that. The white blood cell count was even lower. It was mostly platelets and too many of them to be normal. It wasn't a good sign. Donatello feared its meaning. What if it meant he was…?

"Donatello?"

Don whirled around without finishing his thought; his sensei's name on his lips. "I didn't know you came in."

"You do not look as though you are resting. You are still ill, _hai?_" Splinter's expression was undeniable.

"I just woke up. I've been resting too long." He couldn't tell his father his findings. He wasn't even sure what they meant yet. It could be anything. It didn't have to be…

"You are still ill, musuko." Splinter said. The use of the Japanese for son spoke of the older rat's worry. Japanese was his first language. It wasn't unusual that it would mix in with his English at times.

"I know, sensei." He couldn't hide from Master Splinter. Donatello knew he was being scanned by the dark, wizened eyes. He tried to conceal his growing anxiety behind a stoic façade. It had to work. He wasn't ready to discuss what he feared. "Where are my brothers?"

"There are with April-san." Those eyes still watched him and the rat's ear twitched. "You are troubled."

He knew! Of course he knew. It was too late now to evade his sensei. Splinter would only be more suspicious. He couldn't tell him either. Not yet. He slowly sat down in his desk chair and propped his head in his hand. "I'm restless."

"What were you working on?" Splinter's voice was closer now. Donatello glanced up at him. The older rat wasn't looking at him. Don followed his gaze over his own shoulder and onto his desk…where specks of his own blood still glistened off the metallic surface. Shell!

"Research." Don quickly got up to clean it away, but Splinter's hand landing on his arm stilled him.

"Is there anything I need to know?" Splinter asked. Those eyes burned into Don's back.

"I don't know yet." Donny spoke under his breath before raising his voice. "No, there isn't."

"You will tell me when there is?"

"_Hai_. I will."

"I trust you to do so. We will talk more, later. Today is a holiday. Come with me to April's. Your brothers are waiting."

A holiday? Donatello glanced at the date on his computer in shock. His sensei was right. Thanksgiving had snuck up on him while he lay, miserable, underground. A holiday and he had discovered his was going to die. Wonderful.

"It was their idea to celebrate topside," Splinter added, bringing Don back to the conversation. "They thought you would appreciate the fresh air."

"I do," Donny said without a smile. "I'll clean up a little and then we can go."

"When you are ready; I will be waiting just outside the door."

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><p>Donatello almost forgot how sick he was as he enjoyed the dinner his family had prepared in April's small apartment. Almost. A pestering knowledge still lingered in his subconscious threatening to ruin his evening with more misery. He wasn't just sick anymore. It wasn't just going to clear up in another week or so. He was going to die. He couldn't live on plasma. Oxygen can't travel in plasma rivers without their red blood cell boats. He'd just suffocate. No, he couldn't think about this. Holiday. Family. He had to enjoy this time with them. The time he had left. Before he died.<p>

"Donny?"

April's voice caught his attention. Don tried to smile a greeting at her. He didn't think he managed it. He could read the question in her eyes, but he didn't let her ask it. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Guys, it's a holiday!" Casey jovially stated. "Ain't we supposed ta be celebratin' sum'thin'? No time fer sick talk!"

Donatello felt Casey's meaty hand slam into his back a few times as little Shadow giggled and mimicked her father somewhere to his right. Donny tried to smile for him. After all, Casey was right. He would be selfish if he ruined this night for his family. This family had thought of his sad predicament enough to allow him this moment outside of the suffocating confines of his home. He shouldn't reward their thoughtfulness with allowing himself to drown in the shadow now hovering over his head. They didn't need to know how troubled he was.

He couldn't keep his eyes from connecting with his father across the table. The look felt conspiratorial, like two spies sharing a secret knowledge only they alone knew. A knowledge the older rat had to only guess the meaning of. Why did he have to be so perceptive? Everyone else could be comforted with the false story, so why couldn't he? He wanted to stab his slice of turkey, but kept the juvenile action at bay. Splinter knew.

He suddenly had to fight a rage that threatened to reveal itself to his table companions. Why did he have to die in such a disgraceful way? He was only nineteen. By human status, he was barely out of his teens. By his un-mutated turtle ancestors, he was even younger. A turtle could live over a hundred years. He didn't expect to live that long with the biological miracle of mutation, but he wasn't ready to succumb to such a common disease of the human population.

Cancer: the result of the Deoxyribonucleic Acid, DNA, in a cell mutating and destroying the cell's body until mitosis allows it to spread and create growths which turn into tumors. These tumors then turn from benign to malignant. The contagious disease than begins to claim lives; claiming his life. Mutating. His mutation is probably the reason for all this. It could happen to his brothers. His father. It could also be Bishop's fault. The outbreak virus that caused him to go through a second mutation. He might never know. A mystery. A secret hidden in his own dying body. He wondered what would go first. His heart? His lungs? His brain? How long would he have to suffer in those final gasps and tremors at the throws of his last moments. He was going to die. He couldn't escape that. After all, cancer specialists still could not find a cure. Even if he wasn't a by-product of an unfortunate mistake. Even if he was normal. There simply wasn't a cure.

He could taste something metallic in his mouth. The warm liquid didn't bother him so much this time. The blood was only the result of biting the side of his tongue: a welcome distraction from the headache taking permanent residence in his head. It also allowed him to notice the sum of the table's eyes on him. Not just sensei now, who was currently absent. When had he left?

They were going to ask him questions. He could see it in their eyes. All of them. Even the usually imperceptive Casey. They all knew. They all could see it. He was falling apart before them and they knew it. They didn't have time to ask. He wanted to leave the room. He didn't have the chance to. He was saved by a devastating pandemonium. It was far from one he would have wished for.

It happened so fast. Glass shattered across the once calm Thanksgiving dinner. Gunshots rang out a chorus of destruction. Don didn't have time to react – to even comprehend – when he was dragged off his chair and flattened by 200 pounds of turtle shield. The room instantly became a warzone. All sound consisted of those lethal, blazing metal and raining glittering shards that used to be a window only seconds before. He wondered how many times that window had been replaced. Then he started tallying the cost to replace it. Again.

"You okay?"

Raphael. That's who he had to thank for the heavy weight on him. He wondered if they had dented the floor yet. Either way, he was planning on paying him back in kind for the new neck pain to add to his now doubled headache. One bad point for shells. They always made whiplash a nightmare. He rubbed the back of his neck as his only response. Before things could get worse.

"No… April!"

Leo's voice rarely sounded panicked. He was practiced calm. He was religiously stoic. He was perfection in everything. He was never known to show his fear. It was apparent now. Don didn't have long to guess why. He saw the blood first. The blood that colored that dorky fall sweater April had only gotten a week before. She had laughed about the find through racks of re-used clothing. A tradition, she had said. Everyone needed an embarrassingly ugly sweater to celebrate the holidays in. She joked about finding one in Don's size. He remembered balking at the suggestion to her delight and, admittedly, his as well.

He didn't want to remember her like this. Leonardo was already covered in her blood. He was the one who had pulled her to safety. He was the one who had failed to be quick enough. "Stay with me," he said as he applied pressure to the wound. April was shot in the chest. Someone had shot their friend.

"I'll fuckin' tear dem bastards a new asshole! Let's see how they like my hockey stick up there!"

Casey. Don turned to him next. Michelangelo was closest. The youngest turtle already – still? – had his hand on the muscled man's arm.

"Wait."

Mikey's voice was unusually quiet. Everything was wrong. The whole atmosphere was changed. Different. Evil. April hadn't spoken yet. Was she alright?

"Call an ambulance, Casey! She's… Hurry!" Leo sounded off. Still. Everything had been turned upside-down. Wrong. "Then get over here and keep her from bleeding out! We can't stay here… We need to survey the area. We have… Don, take Shadow to the lair! Mikey, go with him, now! Raph and I will scout out the perpetrators with sensei and then follow!"

Leo's calm was returning. Normalcy. No, not yet. It was still there. The evil. The disorder. Leo wanted Donny out of danger. That's why he was charged with Shadow's protection. Poor sick Donatello. Poor dying Donatello, but Leo didn't know that yet. No, April was dying. There was blood everywhere. His best friend was dying.

"Donatello."

Don sat up at Splinter's use of his name and found himself face-to-face with little Shadow. Shadow, who had asked for a bathroom break before the shooting. Splinter had taken her. That's why he wasn't at the table. How could he have forgotten that?

"Mommy, want mommy! See!"

She hadn't seen. Splinter had shielded her from the sight. He could see that now. No child should see that. Don's mind finally cleared enough to understand his roll. It was his turn. He pulled the child into his plastron. Don't let her see. He kept his hand on the back on her stringy, dark-haired head.

"Donny?"

Mikey's unasked question was answered with a nod. Don didn't stand at his full height. Not while the shooters could still be out there. Everyone was still kneeling close to the ground and hidden behind the debris. Debris? April's lost her home because of them. _Again._ And now she can lose her like. Because of them.

They made it out of the apartment without the deadly silence breaking again. The silence that was filled with frantic whispers of the disaster that had just occurred. It was a holiday. _A holiday!_ They were never _safe._

The silence continued. Donny tried to keep Shadow quiet. They were not out of danger yet. They still had to combat the stairs that separated them from the secret entrance to the sewers in the basement. The emergency escape. This was definitely an emergency. A child's life could be at stake. Shadow babbled away in her ignorance. Innocent ignorance. The joys of childhood. Something Don knew little of.

The click of a gun froze both turtles. The silence burned against Don's ears. He could hear everything. He could hear Shadow's babbling suddenly quiet. He didn't feel fear from the young human child he held close as if she was his own. It was curiosity. Little hands pushed against Don's hold. A little head moved against the rough skin covering his collar bone. She couldn't see this. She couldn't see the small group of men with guns all trained on them. She couldn't see the glint on black sunglasses worn by a man that shouldn't be trespassing in April's small antique shop and blocking the stairwell.

"Bishop," Don voiced.

"Donatello," Bishop crooned as if they were old friends meeting over coffee. "How are you feeling? Last I saw of you, it was from a balcony as you were falling to your death. I see the burns healed well enough. Are you sick? You look clouded."

"Shut up, Bishop!" Mikey sounded to Don's left. He heard the unmistakable whirl of his younger brother's favored weapons. "I'll take you apart for what you did!"

"Do you mean in Ms. O'Neil's apartment?" Bishop's face was stoic, his hands casually clasped behind his back. He was infuriatingly calm. Typical Bishop. "I did not pull the trigger."

"Mommy?" Shadow was wiggling again. Shaking. Or maybe that was him. Shaking. He was shaking. Why was he shaking? "Unca Donny?"

"You ordered it!"

His legs wouldn't hold him anymore. He didn't notice when he dropped to his knees. He was minutely surprised when the ground was suddenly so much closer.

"You are missing something important, Michelangelo. I see rage can blind you as well as Raphael. Do you wish to attack me so I may take from you Donatello and the child?"

The conversation was beginning to lose meaning. He was fully grounded now. When did that happen? A small hand was bouncing lightly off his face, but he couldn't see the owner. He couldn't see anything. Were his eyes closed? He thought he saw light still. The kind of light that was too bright to be muted behind closed eyelids. Maybe his vision was only blurred to the point where they seemed closed?

"Donny!"

He didn't notice the shaking hadn't stopped. It had only intensified. He didn't notice a new symptom had made itself known to the witnesses in their standoff. His mind was already lost in it.

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><p><strong>AN:**** I know I'm not a very nice writer. Evil is good though! I'm finally getting to the good parts. What I've been waiting for. I hope you can follow me into the madness :) Please review! Happy writers can mean happy endings!**


	5. Aftermath

**A/N:**** Thanks again to my beta, Duckiepray. She tells me The Chosen's on the way! I recommend that fic and all her others! You all can bug her to keep writing too! She's epic!**_  
><em>

**So here's the next chapter (and the first nightmare for this fic!). I'm so happy to get to post this for you all! Read on ;)**

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><p><em>She was dead. There was no doubting that. Her blood saturated her clothes. Her skin was far too pale and thin. He could see the outline of bone; the sharp projections of her skull. He saw himself shaking her, trying desperately to wake her from this slumber as he watched from above. Her head lolled against the ground in a silent mockery of who she used to be. He couldn't look at her for long. This…shell of his best friend…<em>

_The glistening ribbons of her blood, her life, trailed a creeping path past his feet, flickering in memories of old. He couldn't help but stare as they swirled and crashed around him in thundering chaos. The pool turned into a river rushing by; dragging him into their endless abyss. Waves leaped to a resounding symphony as they pulled him under and stole his air until he was left struggling beneath their depths. He was drowning. Arms moved wildly against the swirling rapids. He needed air! _

_He burst to the surface, gasping and shaking. Land. He saw her hand first, opened in invitation. No longer was it thin and empty with death. His eyes traveled up her arm to land on her smile. That smile was contagious no matter the circumstances. He felt it warm him as she crouched on the bank of the river waiting for him to take her hand. She laughed as he reached out to her. Her smile never left her face. As he watched her with his own smile, red blossomed over that old sweater. She didn't seem to notice what he had seen._

"_April!"_

_The cry made no sound. All noise stilled. The deadly silence pressed around him; suffocating him. He couldn't hear the river anymore. He watched his friend's face contort into madness. Her eyes glowed with a pale blue light. Her mouth opened impossibly wide to reveal a series of green on black zeros and ones dashing from side to side in alternating magnifications._

Download at 70%...

_April's hands turned to monstrous claws. Before he could break away, they were on him. Dagger-like nails dug into his flesh and successfully pinned him. Her touch sent his arm spazzing, painfully, out of his control. He watched in horror as it began to digitize out from her infected touch._

"_No!"_

_He had to get away! He instinctively reached for his bo staff and found it missing. Fear drove him to panic as he kicked at the monster that used to be April. His heart raced as he searched for a place to hide. His terror carried him through the destruction of April's apartment. Glass shards found every bare surface of his feet. Adrenaline kept him from feeling the pain as the beast followed his bloody footprints. He flew out of the room, straight into a dead-end._

…75%

_This new room was made entirely out of window panes. He whirled around in horror at his glass prison. There were no doors; no real walls. He dashed to one translucent wall and pounded on it. His mind lost itself to the primal need for flight! He screamed as he felt her decaying flesh against his legs. His feet were yanked from under him and he crashed to the floor. He saw her horribly deformed reflection in the window before the glass shattered beneath him. His animalistic screams echoed as he plunged into darkness…_

Donatello bolted to wakefulness with flailing limbs to escape a beast that was no longer there. He mindlessly struggled against his captor as his heart tried to remember its rhythm. He would have continued fighting if he didn't hear the familiar calm of his brother's words.

"You're okay, bro. You don't need to fight. Nothing's going to hurt you."

Leo? The revelation of his "captor" brought an uncomfortable burn to his face. He slumped in embarrassment over his preemptive response. He almost didn't want to open his eyes, but he needed the visual of his brother to clear the last of the nightmare he could barely remember now. The first thing he saw when he did was a brother's shell and the floor of the sewer tunnels. What was he doing out here?

"Ya got'im?"

Raph's voice came from somewhere to Don's six o'clock. The disorienting position he was in kept him from determining Raphael's exact location.

"Yeah, I got him."

Leo's voice came from right above him. He could feel his brother's breath along his side.

"Donny?"

Mikey's sing-song voice was also close by. The blue-green turtle invaded his vision. All Don could see of him was an upside-down image of his brother's legs. He must have been propped over Leo's shoulder. He lifted his head just enough to see Shadow held securely in Mikey's arms. He wondered why it was so hard to hold himself up. His body just didn't want to cooperate.

"Yup, he's definitely awake!" Mikey announced. "How are you feeling, bro? You, like, totally scared me back there. Are you better now?" He didn't sound as peppy as usual. It didn't sound right on him.

"Give'im a break, Mikey!" Raph huffed. "Let'im breathe fer fuck's sake."

Donny didn't like how uncoordinated he felt. He was glad he wasn't walking on his own. He tested his mobility in jerking movements. Maybe it would be easier if Leo's arm wasn't so firmly around him.

"Calm down, Don. Don't fight me." Leo's grip only tightened with his words. It looked like Don would have to comply.

"What happened?" At least his voice was working alright. The lingering emotions tied into the dream he could barely remember kept rearing up at him.

"You're sick." Leo answered him, "You shouldn't have been topside. It was a mistake."

That tone. Don knew that tone well. Leo felt guilty and worrisome. "Can we stop for a minute?" Donatello asked. "Let me down." He needed the freedom. He was growing painfully restless.

"We have to keep moving. It's only-"

"Let me down!" He didn't expect his voice to rise in pitch, but it got him what he wanted. Leo called for the others to go ahead as he bent down and laid Donny against the brick wall of the tunnels. Leonardo's expression was full of his displeasure. He didn't want to do this. Leo's eyes scanned the area as his hand hovered over his belted shellcell. He was waiting for a call. Don saw how tense his brother was. What was going on…?

That's when he remembered in dizzying flashes. He suddenly felt very sick. "Is April…?"

"We don't know," Leo said with his voice softer now. "She was alive when I left her. Unconscious, but alive. "

_Our fault. It's always our fault._

Donatello moved to stand, but Leo caught him. He probably couldn't go far anyway, but that wasn't the point. He hated being helpless.

"Don't try to move too much. You just had a seizure. I don't want to risk another one." Leo said.

That explained why his head had felt cloudy earlier… "I don't care."

_They can't know. Too early._

"I'm okay now, right?" Don lightened his tone, "I'll be fine." He remembered the cancer with a frown. "What happened to Bishop?"

"Master Splinter covered our escape. He's still hiding up there with Casey." Leo frowned. "We should be going."

Mikey and Raph were long gone by then. He'd barely noticed that they left. Why did that keep happening?

"I will have to carry you again."

Oh, he forgot to respond to Leo. He knew he couldn't walk on his own. His limbs felt heavy. He sighed and nodded at his brother. He allowed Leo to lift him over his shoulder once again. He might have to get used to this helplessness if he was going to die in the near future…

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><p>"The doc said she's in some coma. He don't know shit. Says she may nevah wake up. The bullet in her head's fuckin' wit' her brain 'r sum'thin'. She'll wake up though. She's gotta."<p>

Donatello sighed as he listened to Casey talk over the phone. He couldn't concentrate on him as well as he should have been able to. There was an endless pile of stuff that required his attention. Everything from Mikey's MP3 player to Raph's shellcell cluttered his desk. Not to mention the bi-annual system check-up for their security safeguards. He couldn't leave those unfinished! Who else would do it? This was his expertise; his design. Without him, the security would fall into disrepair. Then what would his family do? His hobby made their life so much easier.

"Doc thinks she won't be the same when she snaps outta it. He says – fuck off, dumbass! Wait yer turn! I'm still talkin' here! – He says she could be a vegetable. I don't know what broccoli's gotta do with head cases. Donny? I think they just be pullin' my leg."

"Huh? Oh, right," Don palmed his forehead at his lack of concentration. "I'm sure she'll be fine. At least the bullet in her chest didn't do too much damage." Don's eyes cast to the door of his lab. His brothers had all gone topside for some exercise. They'd almost refused to leave him, but Don convinced them he would be alright on his own. He wasn't really alone anyway. Master Splinter was still around somewhere. He only had to avoid the grand master now. _Good luck on that…_ He knew Splinter still wanted to talk to him ever since he was caught in the lab a week ago.

"Yeah! She's gotta be alright. April ain't no quitter. Doc just don't know her. That's all. I bettah go. I think ugly here wants ta use the phone now. Talk later, Donny!"

He knew hiding in his lab wouldn't work forever, but he didn't have anywhere else to go either. His eyes moved back over to the work piled on his desk as he flipped his cell closed. He needed to get them all done. Other than a lingering fatigue, he felt a little better. Now as long as his brothers stayed out and Splinter didn't start lurking around for him, he could work on a few projects. He would do them in order of priority. That way he could get the important stuff done before he was interrupted. He easily fell into a rhythm as he began to work. The distraction kept him from thinking about April. He barely finished one project before he was interrupted.

"Donatello."

Splinter's voice surprised him enough to cause him to slip his fingers into the path of his blow-torch. He made a small sound of pain before turning to his master with his burnt finger in his mouth. "I was working on the security systems," he said, with hope that dear old dad would come back later?

"I do not wish for you to work too hard," Splinter said. He didn't even sound sympathetic for the scare! Those eyes were dark; brooding. Don instantly knew there was no escape from the talk he dreaded to hear.

"Can't we do this another time? I'm okay, _really_. The only thing that hurts right now is my finger. I'll go put some burn cream on it…" Don moved to walk around his father, but the decorative walking stick thrust into his path in a flash.

"We will talk now. You have been burned worse before. You will live."

Don immediately deflated into his desk chair. Splinter radiated frustration. There really was no escaping this…

"Now tell me: what is bothering you? Do not try to lie to me."

"I don't know," Don spoke quietly before his own frustration boiled over. "I'm not a doctor."

"I know, _musuko._" Splinter's voice had calmed, marginally. "Yet we both know that you are not just sick."

Donny could only nod. His fists clenched against his thighs as he glared at the floor. He felt his father's furry hand land on his shoulder, but he couldn't look up yet.

_It wasn't fair._

"You will recover?" It wasn't just a question.

Don finally locked eyes with his sensei. He couldn't say it. He didn't want to say it. Saying it aloud made it more _real_. He watched Splinter's eyes grow in understanding and knew he wouldn't have to. Splinter stepped closer to hug him.

"Will you tell your brothers?"

_Why should _they_ know? They're happy just in their ignorance!_

"I'm not sure of anything yet, sensei," Don spoke quietly. "I could be wrong. I don't want them worrying for nothing."

Splinter pulled away, leaving his hands resting on Don's shoulders, and looked at him. "How would you feel if the roles were reversed?"

_Why would that matter?_

"I would want to know, but… I'm not ready yet. They have enough to worry about with April in the hospital. She's still in a coma…" Donny turned away from his father. He couldn't deny the guilt forming in his gut. Bishop was _their_ enemy. April didn't deserve this.

"I will grant you the choice. Remember my words."

_Remember you're a bad turtle for making secrets, blah, blah, blah._

"Hai, sensei." Don watched his master leave the room with conflicting thoughts he couldn't decipher. He hoped working on his projects would clear his head.

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><p>Bishop loved good news. He thrived on winning. When his plans worked out the way he had wanted them to, he tended to be in a good mood. This was one of those days. His spies kept him informed on April O'Neil's condition. That plan had turned out perfectly. He loved it when he wasn't disappointed.<p>

The swaying of heavy fabric against brick was his only warning his solitude had ended. _Right on time too._ Bishop didn't move in reaction. He was expecting the visitor. "You took your time," he said.

The cloaked figure behind him never spoke. Its face was hidden by the heavy hood. It stood and watched Bishop.

"I have a few preliminary projects for you. They should be simple for someone of your…expertise." Bishop tipped his head to catch the figure in his peripheral. "The more difficult missions will come later when I believe I can trust you not to fail me."

The figure didn't move for a moment longer before it finally took off and disappeared into the night.

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><p><strong>AN:**** Hold on for the next installment. There's still ways to go before the end. The worst is yet to come! Please review!**


	6. Now I lay me down to sleep

**A/N:**** So lookie here. It's an update! Yeah, well... I had this half-way done for a while... Whoops? I blame the dream. I didn't know how I was going to write the end of it. That and Leo and Don's scene came to a stand-still as well. This was a hard one to write! But don't worry! I think the next chapter already has a written scene! :D I'm fairly sure I feel like revealing that scene. ;)**

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><p><em>Beep!<em>

Donatello jerked awake to the sound of his laptop complaining over a low battery. He didn't remember falling asleep. He ignored his laptop for the moment as he oriented himself with his surroundings. He easily recognized the Lair's main room. He sat up further on the couch and looked at the digital clock on his laptop: 3:17am. It was way too early to be awake.

Instead of going for the cord, he turned his laptop off and set it on what little space was left on the coffee table. He knew he should go back to sleep – he was exhausted – but he doubted he would be able to. Donny attempted to rub away the migraine beating against his skull. He hated headaches.

He knew he had been sleeping a lot since his first seizure all those weeks ago. He just couldn't wake up so easily anymore. His brothers didn't help much either. They _wanted_ him to sleep. He lied down on the couch, trying to get back to sleep. His eyes slipped closed and he waited. He groaned as all he got for his efforts was that pounding headache surfacing at full force. "Ugh!" He kicked out at the armrest in his frustration only for that intense show of emotion to irritate his migraine.

Aspirin. He rummaged in his belt for the bottle and sighed in relief when his fingers closed around it. Donny fumbled with the suspiciously silent bottle until the child-proof cap finally snapped off. He didn't watch where the lid flew as he tipped the bottle over his open palm. Not a single pill danced onto his hand. _No, please no!_ He didn't want to believe it could be empty. He stared, forlornly, into the bottle's resolutely empty innards and nearly cried. There wasn't even a partial crumb left. There had to be more somewhere. He couldn't have used all his stash. He went through the month in desperation. He knew this was his last bottle. Why didn't he get more? He should never have let it go empty like that…

He couldn't waste time thinking about it. It was starting to make his headache worse. He needed a distraction. Don turned towards the blank televisions without really seeing them. If he didn't feel so sick from the headaches, he would have considered himself a lot better than he was a few weeks ago. Anything would be better than this constant pain. It was a persisting irritant that reminded him of Mikey. He allowed himself a pained chuckle at the name. It definitely fit.

He didn't know how long he was staring at the televisions until a voice brought him back to reality. "Don?"

Donatello turned his head towards his brother's voice. Leonardo stood just about ten feet from him in the shadows of the stairs. Don didn't respond as he stared, mutely. If Leo was up, it had to be closer to six in the morning. His brother looked like he'd woken up only a moment before.

"Don…?" Leonardo repeated as he slowly walked over. The light finally caught his concerned expression. "Were you already up?"

_Disappointed that we beat your time, brother?_

The thought was abrupt and painful. He groaned and immediately looked away. A clear head would be nice right now.

"Are you alright?" Leo's voice broke through to Don. He was closer now. Close enough to touch him.

"Headache," Donny muttered. He didn't want to say more.

"Again?" Leonardo asked him. "They're getting more frequent. Is it worse than in the past?"

Don looked at him as his only answer.

"Have you taken anything?"

Don's eyes slowly moved to the empty pill bottle that had slipped to the floor with a frown.

"I'll get you some more." Leo's weight on the couch caused Don to topple over against him. It wasn't that comfortable, but a brother's shoulder had its moments. Leo continued, quietly, "In the meantime, you should get some sleep."

Don didn't have to shake his head much for Leo to get the message. The shoulder was a great communicator.

"Donny…" Leo's soft voice turned weary. "You need sleep."

"Can't," Don whispered, firmly. "Head hurts too much. Tried."

"It's really that bad?"

Don nodded ever so slightly.

He heard Leo's sigh. "I can make you some tea to ease your headache, but you _will_ promise to sleep afterwards. You can't go on like this. You look exhausted. How much sleep did you get tonight? Any?"

Donatello winced at his brother's sharper tone. "Don't know," he mumbled against his brother's shoulder. His arms wrapped around one of Leo's in his discomfort.

He heard Leo breathe out like he was going to say something, but paused at Don's action. His form was tense only for a moment. "Donny…" The address possessed all the love his brother held for him. If Don felt more like himself, he might have been compelled to talk his way out of Leo's concern. As it was, Donny didn't say a word. The tea was forgotten.

Donatello must have fallen asleep, because he jumped as what sounded like rampaging elephants thundered down the stairs.

"Raphael! Mikey!" Leo's voice rose from next to him.

"Ha! Leo's mad at _you_, Raphie!" Michelangelo's moving voice boomed through the room. "He said my name with _love_!"

"No, yer name's jus' too goddamn long!" Raphael roared after him.

"No, no, no, Raphie! You're just jealous! My name's long because I'm the most _awesome!_ Just like yours is the shortest because you're the least! You need to get with the program, bro! Long names are _in_!"

"I'll show ya what's _in_ if ya stop runnin', ya little coward!"

"Both of you!" Leo demanded again. "Stop fooling around! You woke Don up!"

Donatello stared in bewilderment as Raph finally tackled Mikey. Only Mike had his gear on, leading Don to slowly guess at what had transpired. He casually wondered what it was this time. As nothing incriminating stood out to him, he quickly gave up. Thinking _hurt_.

"Why are you so _fat_?" Mikey hollered. "Ya do know steroids aren't meant to be used so much!"

"Grrr, ya like pancakes, right? Thought I'd give 'im early!" Raph growled.

"Oh morning, Don!" Mikey called over, before addressing Raph once more. "Oof! Want some syrup on yours, Raphie-kins?"

"Shut up, dumbass!" Raphael smashed his hand over Michelangelo's mouth. He recoiled only a second later with a grimace. "Yuck! Slobberpuss!"

"You should know better than that, Raph," Donatello spoke quietly. Only now did Raph glance over at him. His almost golden eyes concentrated on where Don still gripped Leo's arm. As soon as Donny realized what Raph saw, he pulled away from Leo.

"Are you feeling any better?" Leo whispered so only Don could hear him. Donny only shrugged.

"Brainiac didn't get any sleep?" Raph asked. "That's a real dumb move."

"Raph," Leo said, pointedly. "Why don't you make yourself useful and put a pot of water on to boil. Mikey? You can handle breakfast. Make something light."

Don watched Raph and Mikey leave before turning to Leo. "Did I actually sleep?"

"Maybe for ten minutes," Leo told him.

"Oh…" Donny sighed. Fifteen minutes wasn't even long enough to reach REM sleep. It wasn't even far enough to get to stage two of the four stages _before_ REM. If stage two was reached, he must have been in it for only a minute or so. It was far from a restful attempt.

"It'll get better." Leonardo's voice interrupted Don's musings.

Don looked up at Leo with a frown. "You don't know that."

"Maybe, but I don't want you to dwell on it so much either. Just relax."

Don looked at Leonardo. _How can I relax?! I could die!_

"My sons," Splinter spoke in greeting before Don could voice his objections. Donatello glanced over at him with a forced smile. He caught Splinter's searching gaze, but was relieved when his father turned away.

"Good morning, sensei," Leonardo said on cue.

"I am watching the news this morning." Splinter said as he sat in his chair. "Do you mind?"

"No," Leo responded. Don watched Leo grab the remote off the table before the television clicked on. Sound blasted through the speakers before he could lower the volume. Donny stopped paying attention as the channel flipped to a news broadcast. The reporter's voice drifted through his subconscious.

"…_Reported identity thefts have increased dramatically in the last week alone. New York's finest are on the case to catch this thief, but there hasn't been any news from them yet. Hopefully the culprit will be caught soon so our children can enjoy Christmas this year…"_

The rest of the report faded away as Don finally drifted off in sleep. He had one last thought before his eyes closed. _Maybe I'll get some decent sleep this time…_

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><p><em>Data. It surrounded him. Everywhere he looked, he saw another cluster of data; a whole city of it. He slowly walked the data highway stretching out before him. It kept distracting him from his mission. He needed to keep going. There was something he was supposed to find here; something important. He knew if he kept walking, he would find it.<em>

Donatello…

_A door appeared before him. He knew he had arrived as he looked upon it. The door hummed as his hand neared it before sliding open at his touch. He cast his eyes around at the__shopping mall laid out before him. He knew he didn't have much more time left. He pushed the wheeled metal cart before him as he looked among the shelves on either side of the aisle. He pulled a piece of merchandise down and examined the weighty can of First Banked Beans. He knew it held a good brand name. It became the first to be dropped in his cart._

_He emptied the shelf must faster after that. He knew he was running out of time. It was getting closer to the surface with each passing second. He could feel it hovering just behind him._

Download at 89%

_He whirled around to face what he felt watching him. The dark night helped cloak the figure standing only feet from him. Rain thundered as the two faced off. The figure never moved. The hooded cloak kept its face in thick shadow. The wind whipped around them in a fury. Donny couldn't see it, but he knew the figure was glaring at him in mockery._

"_Who are you?" Don's voice shook with unprecedented fear._

_The figure only smirked more. Donny knew it without seeing its face. It seemed to find Donatello's question humorous. Don's eyes narrowed._

"_What is so funny?"_

"_You." The figure spoke in a demonic mockery of Don's own voice. Its eyes impossibly glowed to a crimson red before it stepped toward Don, footsteps completely silent upon the__ground._

95%

_Donatello ran only seconds before the figure leaped at him. His feet carried him through the long tunnel before him. He couldn't see the end. There was too little light. Somewhere, he could hear echoes of water dripping down from above. What he couldn't hear was his pursuer. A brief thought fluttered through his mind – maybe he had given up? – but his fear kept him going._

_It was right behind him. He sensed it there. The dim light revealed a contorted shadow of claws in his peripheral vision. Fear and instinct drove him to take a desperate leap away from what he knew as certain death…_

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><p>Donatello abruptly came to his senses as his body made contact with hard concrete. He carefully pushed himself off the ground as confusion began to take hold. He wasn't supposed to be here. Last he remembered he was in his bed at home. This was…<em>topside?<em> His eyes widened as he took in his surroundings. He didn't know how he ended up on what he soon discovered to be the hospital rooftop. _Why…?_

_April._ The answer came to him as he remembered his injured friend. She was in this hospital. He probably just wanted to see the woman and fell asleep watching her. He found her window quickly, only proving his suspicion. He had been getting poor sleep. Hopefully, it wouldn't happen again. It wasn't the safest thing to fall asleep out in public like that…

He couldn't see much from his vantage point. What he _could_ see of April looked so weak and vulnerable. She shouldn't be in there. She wouldn't be if she'd never met him and his family. He laid his hand on the glass. She would have been so better off without them. He hoped she wouldn't suffer too much longer. This wasn't her fight to die from…

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><p><strong>AN:**** There ya go! Now feed the comment box! It's very hungry and it helps fuel my writing! :D**


	7. Day and Night

**A/N:**** Things are going to get rough from here on out. Hang on to your seat belts :D A reviewer of mine wanted some Raph/Don convos. Well, ask an ye shall receive. It happened to fit well. The Mikey scene in the beginning is based on my first attempt of the prologue to this fic. I decided the fight scene worked out better there. I recycled the scene here to make this chapter longer for you all! I hope you enjoy it :D**

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><p>Agent Bishop's vantage point of Mercy General Hospital allowed him the best scope of Ms. O'Neil's hospital room's large glass windows. His men had just finished reporting to him of her current status. There was very little hope for the turtles' ally to awaken. <em>Even if she did, the turtles still would not have their precious April if what the reports say is to be believed.<em> _The brain is such a_ _vulnerable organ. She'll make the perfect bargaining chip if the plan falls into discord. Only I have the instruments necessary to bring her back._

A click sounded in his ear. He pulled back one of his sleeves to better view the complex watch fastened around his wrist.

_100%. Download Complete._

"Perfect timing." Bishop pressed the intercom button hooked onto his ear. "Stockman."

"I told you patience was all you needed, but you doubted my prowess," Stockman replied without preamble. "One of these days…"

"Do not get cocky now. It makes you more of a nuisance than usual. May I remind you that you have become expendable?" Bishop turned away from the hospital to face temporary blank space. The air rippled until a helicopter slowly appeared from where it was hidden. "I will be there in ten. Do not begin without me."

The click in his ear announced Stockman's disconnection. Bishop's eyes narrowed behind his dark glasses. He couldn't wait to replace the misguided scientist and his dreadful ego. _In time_. The helicopter's blades slowly built up speed, slicing the sky in a fury. The wind buffeted against Bishop as he approached, sweeping the long suit coat up behind him. He took hold of the metal support as he stepped up before the helicopter took to the air. Soon Operation Worm will be unleashed at its full force.

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><p>It was quiet. Don could hear every drop of water from the leaking pipe just a few feet from his bed. He'd have to fix that. Leaks could easily turn into bigger problems. One leak could become a flood in his room. It was a nightmare he didn't want to imagine. It was too easy to think. His head actually felt clear for the first time in weeks. Maybe he wasn't going to die? <em>Wishful thinking there.<em>

"Donny!"

Donatello rolled over in his bed just in time to be pancaked by 150 pounds of turtle. _So much for thinking. …That's a good thing._ "Get off, Mikey!" He groaned. "You do know how heavy you are, right?"

"Not as heavy as Raph. I'm made up of pure zero gravity awesome!" Mikey's loud voice pounded against his head.

"You read too many comic books, you know that? You're hurting me."

Michelangelo sat back onto Don's legs instead. "You need to stop being so blah." His fingers pulled Don's mouth into a smile. "That's better!"

Donny shoved the fingers away. "I'm fine. I'm just trying to do as you guys keep telling me to do. You know, rest?"

"You weren't really resting. At least you weren't sleeping. And, most importantly, I've missed you."

"I've always been here." Don didn't feel like he could keep up with his brother right now. He could feel his legs going numb.

"That's not the point." Mikey shook his head fervently. "I've missed _doing_ stuff with you. Oh, and guess what?! I just got this perfect cure for that! We can go on a walk together! You can handle that, right? I mean topside's obviously not an option, but a walk in the sewers won't be a problem."

"Sounds tempting." Don pointedly yawned.

"Awe, come on, please?"

"You're still sitting on me." He quirked a brow at Mike.

"I won't get off until you promise to come with me."

"You drive a hard bargain." Don tried pushing his brother off, but Mikey held on firmly. "Alright, if you don't get off, I'm using desperate measures." He reached for his brother, aiming for the sensitive areas.

"Hey, hey, hey! Wait a minute! Tickling is not allowed! It's cheating!" Mikey leaned away as far as he could without moving from his seat. "Ice cream! I'll buy you ice cream! And we can share a pizza?"

Don paused and hummed ominously. "I don't know, little brother. That's a good chunk of what little money you have. Are you sure you have enough? Maybe you'd rather leave me here?"

"Two scoops? From Cold Stone?"

"Better."

"What more do you want from poor innocent me?"

Don snorted at Mike's claim of 'innocence'. "Are you getting off of me so we can go?"

"Yes!" Mikey flopped down on Don to hug him tightly. "This'll be fun!" He jumped off and grabbed Don's arm. "Let's go!"

"You know this doesn't mean you won anything. You're still not a good negotiator." Don teased. "In the end, it was all my choice."

"Sure, it was." Mikey droned. "You are totally my mind pawn!"

"Mind pawn? Maybe I should just stay here then 'master'."

"No! I won't allow it, slave!" Mikey pushed his brother to the door.

Don didn't make it easy for him. He was starting to enjoy this too much. He was smiling. He could hardly remember the last time he was this happy. Maybe today won't be as bad as he originally thought. _Of course it won't. Anything's better than being sick all day._

Mikey was rambling as they walked. Donatello didn't care what it was about. He was just glad to hear someone else freely talking without the constant worry. It was more…_freeing._

"Are you even listening to me?" Mikey stopped short.

"Maybe." Don grinned at him.

"You're not listening… Why does nobody ever listen to me? Yanno, you're totally missing out on all the epic thoughts jumping out of my head. See, you're not the only inventor here. Yeah, so your stuff is more complicated and all that, but my ideas are pure gold, bro! You'll see. One of these days it'll be my plans that help me to rule the world!"

"Okay, Mikey."

"No, no, no! You got to take me seriously here! I'm no one to kid around with."

"We'll see, little brother," Donny teased. "I'll be sure to mark the date on the calendar when I see it."

"You're evil. No ice cream for you."

"Alright, so I'll just head back then?" Don turned back towards the lair.

"No, wait! You have to watch me eat mine!"

"I'll pass."

"Fine. If you promise to be nice, you can have your ice cream." Mikey's voice sounded heavy.

Don turned to him with a mental frown. He knew why his brother was doing this. Mikey wanted things to be back to normal. He wanted to pretend. But he was still worried as well. Donny didn't blame him. Mikey was the one who had to see Don's first seizure. Just this once, Donatello would give Mikey the distraction he needed. "That sounds like a deal."

"Okay, so we're almost there anyway. I'll go up and buy it." Mikey laid a hand on the ladder next to them.

Don glanced up at the manhole cover above. He wondered if it would be night or day up there. He never checked the time. It could easily be either.

"No, I know that look, bro. No topside for you." Mikey frowned. "Leo and Raph would kill me if they found out. I'll go up and get it and you'll stay here. Okay?"

"Fine." Don sighed. He knew better, really. He wasn't allowed topside unless it was behind his brothers back. _No matter. It's not like I'm missing anything…_

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><p><em>The observed turtle was sleeping peacefully, unaware of any danger that could – would – befall him. The soft snore confirmed how deep this sleep was. He was sprawled across his bed as if claiming every surface as his own. The shadows of night darkened the blue-green of his skin in patches. Only a small sliver of the yellow plastron peaked out from under the tangled blanket.<em>

Tangled… Tangle tighter… Tighten it, yank it… Smother him… Gasping… Sweet desperation… Frightened blue eyes… Watch them dull… Hear him beg, plead… Don't, please, he says… His skin grows pale… Oxygen deprivation… Asphyxiation… So close… End him now!

_The watched turtle shifted in his sleep, breaking free of the observer's ill thoughts. He looked so calm, oblivious. He should be afraid. He should be on alert. It would be too easy… If only he would wake up. If only he knew how perilous his position was. How dangerous it was to still be sleeping. Why hasn't he noticed yet? Why are there so many ways for him to die?_

Kill him… Slice him… Carve him… Blood pearling…dripping… Dig the kunai deeper… Crimson rivers staining the blanket… Coating the skin… Draining the capillaries… Blood gushing from arterioles… Split open an artery… The bed coated in deep red… Gasping on the liquid that used to sustain him… Destroy his body…

"_Donny…" A whispered word in sleep. Such a quiet noise. Such a freeing sound…_

"_Donny?"…_

"Donny!"

Donatello jerked his head up at the call with a gasp as if it was his first breath of air after nearly drowning. His dead gaze cleared as he took in his brother's dark green form. It took him a moment to feel the stinging of his beak. _He hit me?_

"Where've you been, nerd-boy?" Raph's rough voice nearly growled. Don wondered just how long his brother had tried to gain his attention.

"Huh?" Don voiced, still trying to focus. "I've just been…" He cast his eyes around the room. "…sitting on the couch?" _Was I always on the couch?_ He mentally shivered as an echo of a cold laugh vibrated in his head. A migraine ached against his skull as he attempted to rub it away.

"That ain't what I meant and you know it." Raph's voice seemed to pound against his ears.

"I thought you wanted me to sleep?" Don tried to disguise his momentary confusion. If it wasn't so curious, it wouldn't be as hard.

"With yer eyes open? Try again."

"Oh." Donny frowned. _What _had_ I been doing?_

_It doesn't matter. Just think. What do we always do?_

"Just thinking, I guess. You know me." Don shrugged. "I didn't think you would care what I think about." He didn't acknowledge the continued misuse of the pronoun.

Raph was glaring at him. Donny sighed, exasperatedly. "There's something wrong with thinking now?" he asked his temperamental brother.

"I don't buy it."

_Dear old Raph. So eloquent._

"Why not?"

"'Cuz sum'thin' still ain't sittin' right with you. How come yer still stuck havin' ta rest all tha time?" Raph was a sure sign of overpowering dominance with his arms crossed over his plastron and his hard expression glaring down at Don. Or he would be if he wasn't Donny's brother.

Raphael was worried about him. Don had known it for weeks. This was how Raph showed his emotions. Anger was only his defense mechanism. Donatello was surprised it had taken so long for Raph to confront him. _Or maybe he had…?_

Don winced at the loud snap of Raph's fingers next to his ears. "Was that really necessary?"

"Yup. Stop leavin' me fer brainville, genius. I'm still talking."

Raph was towering over him. Don sighed and stood. "I don't know what to tell you, Raph. I think… I'm taking care of it."

"Taking care of what?"

Don had hoped Raph wouldn't ask. He had to be honest now. He took in a breath of air and walked a few paces away. He couldn't look at his brother as he stated the facts he knew. "I believe I'm going to die. We all do eventually, but whatever _this_ is… I think it's going to kill me. I have a guess at what it could be but…"

"Yer not dying." Raph's voice cut Don's words short. "I don't give a crap what this shit is. Yer gonna live."

Donatello glared back at his brother. "We all die eventually."

"Bullshit." His hand snapped out and clamped tightly to Don's shoulder. Immediately after, Raph spun his brother to face him once again. "Yer not dyin' before me!"

Donny winced as he was shook. "Raph…"

"No!"

"It happens to us all…"

"Shut up!" Raph emphasized his words by slamming his fist into Don's beak. "Why are you so calm about this shit?! How long didja fuckin' have this idea in your head? Don't ever keep secrets like this from me again! We can fix this. You're _not_ dying!"

"What's the point? I can't deny what my observations clearly state. There's nothing I can do about this with our limited medical knowledge and resources. I can't fix this." Don sighed. "I didn't want to tell you because I knew you would act like this. You'll just have to get used to living without me when I go. I'm sure it won't be too hard if you keep up my security systems. You can always go to Leatherhead if you run into trouble with that."

Truthfully, he didn't know _why_ he was so calm. He should still be searching for ways out of this impending doom. Was he really ready to accept his own eventual death?

"You should be doing something about it. Not jus' sitting on yer ass and waiting to die."

_I wasn't. At least…not at first._ Don's eyes narrowed in confusion.

_No, it doesn't matter. Nothing to worry about._

Why did his head hurt worse all of a sudden? _This migraine business is getting ridiculous._ Donatello rubbed a hand over his forehead.

"What now? Another headache?" Raph demanded of him. "Dammit, Don."

"Keep out of this!" Don's fists clenched as his body moved defensively; one step back for balance. His headache dulled as the words jumped out of his head. He didn't look confused anymore. He looked furious.

Raph's response was to take his own step back. He looked confused through the sudden fog of Don's vision. "That…" Raph's eyes narrowed to mirror Donny's. "'Bout fuckin' time."

_Kill him_.

Something wasn't right. _No_. Something was _wrong_. Don was already moved in for a punch when he stopped it mid-air. _Can't do this._ It was barely a second before he turned and ran towards the lair's door. He had to get away before he accidently did something he would regret. He was just too…_angry_.

His feet carried him far from his home. He wasn't paying attention to his route. He didn't care where he was going. This was far from the first time he had burst out in a rage. It happened. It was a simple matter of stressed situations. He was allowed to get mad once in a while. The fact that he _was_ dying only gave him a better excuse. It followed Kübler-Ross' stages of death.

Donatello stopped running when he reached a remote area of the sewers. His eyes wandered aimlessly among the pipes full of rushing water draining into the cavern below. No, he still should have controlled himself better. Raph was only trying to help. He _knew_ that. Going off on him like that was wrong. _I'll apologize later. When I've calmed down_. He needed to stop hiding. He knew when he got back; the news would have traveled to the rest of his brothers. The truth was out. Though some feeling told him it wasn't that simple. If only he had all the facts. Then he wouldn't feel like he was missing something. He always hated leaving a puzzle with unanswered questions.

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><p><strong><span>AN: How's that for mystery and evils? Remember to feed that comment box. It gets really hungry :D**


	8. Memories of Blood

**A/N:**** Had this ready for the most part yesterday but I went over my allotted data limit on the parent WiFi. I'm with my aunt now who has unlimited! So here is the next chapter of Hacked! I hope you enjoy this one :) It's not exactly in-your-face clear what's been happening to Don here, but I'm sure some of my readers might realize the premise anyway. Then the next two chapters will clear up any lasting doubt. Just keep holding on until then!**

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><p>Donatello blindly stumbled through the door. His knees hit the floor, hard, as his head exploded in a blinding pain. He blinked a couple times to clear his vision. The concrete floor shimmered into focus beneath his palms. Muted sounds echoed in his ears as he stared at the thick glistening substance dripping down his arms.<p>

His eyes suddenly stung with the threat of tears he couldn't place the reason for. His brain felt sluggish as he blinked the salty moisture away. Everything registered too slowly for him to comprehend. He followed the crimson liquid as it trickled down to the hard floor. He sat back on his ankles and turned his hands over. He caught sight of his legs covered in more of the thick sludge. It was everywhere.

_Blood._ "There's too much blood…" his voice croaked out. Logic and reason were all that kept him sane at that moment. It couldn't all be his. _I must have gotten into a fight…_ It terrified him that he couldn't _remember_ that fight. In fact, when he tried to backtrack to the memory…he could only barely place himself as far back as the door. _Why…?_

_Get cleaned up. Remove the evidence. They could come down at any moment._

Donny nearly tripped over his feet in his haste. The lair's main area was silent as he passed through it. He darted towards the bathroom door and threw out his hand to jerk it open.

_Don't let anyone see._

The door closed behind him with a click. He winced at how _loud_ it seemed as he froze, listening – hoping – for the silence to remain unbroken on the other side. _They're going to figure out I'm in here. I made too much noise._

_No, they won't. Clean up the blood._

Don slipped into the shower without removing any of his gear. Fingers slid as he frantically turned the water on. The warm stream rained down his body and he slowly relaxed enough to notice the glaring absence of his signature weapon. _My bo staff!_ He grasped the open air behind his shell in surprise. _When did I lose it?!_ His breath hitched as a sick feeling came over him. He did something horrible. He knew it. He stared at his shaking palms. _Why can't I remember?_ His fists clenched as he tried, once again, to piece the night together.

_CREAK!_

Don's head snapped up in shock. The lair was no longer silent. He could hear whisper-light footsteps over the rushing water cascading over his ears. The shower was immediately silenced. He listened hard to the sounds outside the bathroom door. Just one set of footsteps moved in the lair; one brother.

"Donny?"

_Raph_. Don felt panicked. He was a trapped animal unable to hide. He slid down to the floor of the shower. _Just go away._

"Are you hurt?"

Don's gaze locked on the bloody mess he made on the bathroom floor and door. A mess he was sure was repeated beyond it.

_I told you to clean up. This is all on you._

_No…_ A sharp knock at the bathroom door caused him to jump.

"Donny!"

_Just deal with your mess before he breaks the door down._

"I'm alright!" Donny yelled. His voice cracked slightly. He hoped Raph didn't hear it.

"Ya don't sound alright. Do ya know how much fuckin' blood's out here? And where'd ya get the knife?"

"Knife?" In his surprise, he spoke the thought aloud. He didn't remember a knife. _Where _did_ I…_

A memory of blood sprayed across his vision. Blood and screaming echoing through a dark night. He suddenly felt very ill.

"Donny! Let me in!"

"No, stay away!" Don screeched as he shoved his fists against his ears. He could still hear the screams. He needed it to stop. _Just stop!_

"I swear I will knock this fuckin' door in, bro!"

Don gasped as his head began to pound. "Raph…!" He didn't know if he was objecting to his brother's promise or calling for his help. Both thoughts warred in his head.

The door splintered off its frame as Raphael stormed into the room. "What tha hell is going on?"

_He knows. He'll tell them all now. You have to stop him._

"No," Donny shook his head at the thought, ignoring the searing pain growing at the base of his skull. He could feel his mind slipping even as he tried to hold it together.

_Yes. Kill him._

"Dammit, Don. You're shaking." Raph's hand found Donny's arm.

"Don't…touch me!" Don shoved his brother away, unaware just how much force he used.

"What's wrong with you?!" Raph snapped. "Ya ain't acting right!"

"Don't you ever listen, you mindless oaf!" Donny stood with his eyes narrowed at Raph and his fist clenched. Only a slight shiver still remained in his limbs.

"What the fuck?! I'm just tryin' ta help, dumbass!"

"I don't need nor do I want your help!"

_He'll wake the others._

"Sure ya don't. Ya look like you nearly got yerself killed!"

Donny didn't stop to consider his future actions. He flipped out of the shower and executed a swift kick to Raphael's gut. The red-banded brother didn't have time to react. His head smashed back into the sink. The impact caused the mirror to shatter over him. Raph groaned as he slumped to the floor. "Fuck," he coughed out.

Don didn't give him the chance to raise his head. He snatched a shard of glass from the air and leaped at his fallen brother. The glistening edge of the glass bore down over Raph.

Instead of the instinctual grab of his throbbing head, Raph's hand changed directions to catch Donny's wrist and halt the downward arc of the makeshift weapon. "What are you doing?! You tryin' ta kill me?!"

"Stop me," Don whispered in a low whine. He could barely think past the storm raging in his head.

"Damn right, I will!" Raph moved his knees to his chest before kicking out at Donny.

_Finish him!_

He was thrown back into the glass of the shower stall, but it was already too late. The shard of glass sang through the air and found its mark. More blood painted the room. Don's eyes slipped closed. As he drifted into unconsciousness, he thought he heard footsteps. Then there was nothing but silence.

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><p>"Isn't there anything we can do?"<p>

"He's lost too much blood already. All we can do is wait."

Donatello grimaced as sound encompassed him again. The firm surface he felt beneath him didn't make sense just yet. It wasn't his own bed, but it was vaguely familiar.

"He can't die. He won't. Raph's too tough for that."

"I hope you're right, Mikey."

Don's eyes blinked open to his own lab. He recognized the area cordoned off for use as an infirmary of sorts. So he must be in one of the cots. He tracked the voices of his brothers to a shabby cot similar, in use alone, to his. Leonardo and Michelangelo blocked his view of the occupant, but it wasn't hard to guess who it was.

"If only I knew the circumstances of what happened," Leo continued.

Donny frowned. _Should I know?_ Slowly, he rolled to his side and winced as his right hand rebelled at the action. Curiously, he looked at his own hand, bound in gauze and dyed a deep red at the center of the palm from blood seeping through. He could remember the blood. The memory threatened to consume him in that moment, but all he could get out it was blood pooling over tile.

"Donny." Leo's firm voice shattered the flash of memory and Donatello broke free of it with a breathless gasp. Somehow, he ended up on the floor in a bewildered heap.

"Huh?" Don looked up at Leo's open palm. It felt like a full minute before it clicked in his mind to take the hand.

"Are you alright?" Leo asked him as he assisted his brother. His voice didn't show enough concern to put Don at ease.

"I think so…" Don stared down at his injured hand.

"What happened with you and Raph?"

"Raph?" Don's gaze slid to the second cot. He could clearly see the occupant now. Gauze thickly coated the top of Raphael's head and around his neck. He looked pale and so very still. "Glass…" The word easily came to him as he clenched his injured hand.

"Yes, Donny. Now tell me what happened in the bathroom."

"I…don't remember," Don admitted, truthfully. He didn't understand how he could know pieces of the puzzle and yet the full picture continued to elude him.

_Don't worry about it. You never did before._

His breathing hitched as he felt the truth of that thought. There were too many black-outs in his memory. Some that he just dismissed so easily before were glaringly obvious now. What happened during those lapses in memory? If Raph can end up fighting to live during one black-out what – or who – would be next? It was a horrible thought.

"Donny!"

He's wide eyes caught and held Leo's confused ones.

"Where _do_ you keep spacing off to?"

Don barely heard Mikey's voice. He couldn't stay here any longer. He was a danger to his family. He needed to find answers. He needed to find out the source of his black-outs. He didn't waste another second in debating. He raced towards the lair door. Distantly, he could hear his brothers call after him. His two brothers. He was down to two now. _Raph is _dying. He heard what Mikey and Leo said. Some monster tried to kill his brother. _A monster like me…_

_What are you going to do about it? You won't even remember this in a few hours._

_Leatherhead. He'll know what to do. He can help me. I'm not in danger of killing him either. He'll keep me from hurting anyone else._

_We'll see about that, Donatello._

"LH!" Donatello pounded on the door to Leatherhead's lair with both fists. He didn't stop until the thick metal door peeled away. Don tumbled over, barely catching himself on the crocodile's large form.

"What is the matter, my friend?" Leatherhead asked as he gently helped right Don's balance. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," Donny said. "I need your help."

"You are welcome to make yourself at home. I am always ready to come to your aid." LH said as he guided Donatello inside.

_He was drowning. He couldn't breathe. His hands searched desperately for purchase among the thick liquid. It clogged his senses. All he could see was the murky crimson depths pressing against him. Entrails of those once living swayed like seaweed from the ground below. He tried to swim away as they tickled against his legs. He could feel the mucous remains entrapping his ankles. Bubbles of carbon dioxide escaped his mouth in his desperation to escape, but to no avail. He was trapped. The entrails slithered up his body like snakes, cementing him in place. He lost more air as his arms tightened against his sides._

"_How many more will die?"_

_He stopped struggling at the voice. _…Raph?_ The shadows before him swelled until they formed two distinct silhouettes in the distance. An overwhelming fear enveloped him at the sight. He had to get free before they reached him. He had to run!_

"_You're a monster. How could you, Donny?"_

_He froze once again at hearing April's voice. _April…_ The figures moved closer. Now he could see more figures behind the two leading. There had to be more than a dozen. He knew they all came together for one thing only. He knew they wanted him dead. He renewed his efforts to escape with a vengeance._

"_Shh, be still." Another figure stepped before him with twin _tanto_ blades held in each hand. "Don't fear their ghosts. I am here." He was shielding Don from view of the approaching threat. The cloak kept him anonymous, but his hands peeked out of it. His three-fingered hands. Don couldn't look away from the sight of them._

"_Who are you?" He asked. The figure felt so familiar to him. Even down to his voice. My_ voice._ He tried to catch a glimpse of the cloaked one's face._

_The figure laughed at his question. "Not to worry, Don. Just let me take the lead."_

"_Kill the beast!" The crowd roared as they surged forward. Donny watched as their images grew clear. The two in the lead caught his full attention. Both were battered and as dead in appearance as those following. Both were too familiar for him to understand why they wanted him dead._

"_No, this can't be real," Don voiced aloud._

"_It is," the cloaked one spoke. "The enemy has already gotten to Raph and April. It's too late for them. We must take them out together once and for all. Just remember: they're already dead."_

_The cloaked one leaped into battle then. His hood caught the thick blood's resistance and slipped off his head. His face was suddenly revealed in stark detail. Don recognized the unique olive-green coloring. He was staring at himself. The only difference was the vivid red eyes that emitted a faint glow…_

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><p><strong>AN:**** There you have it! Now get to feeding that review box for me ;) Who knows, it _could_ effect whether Raph lives or dies. I'm seriously still debating the issue. Same with April for that matter.**_  
><em>


	9. I pray the Lord my Soul to Keep

**A/N:**** Here's the next chapter, folks! You will love to hate this one ;) I promise you that one.**

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><p>"Are you sure, Leatherhead?"<p>

"Donatello told me some unsettling things. I do not believe I am mistaken."

Don rolled awake to voices once again. He frowned even before his consciousness could process what made him uneasy. His intellectual mind was always something he took pride in. It was strange that he, once again, had to struggle to remember the events prior to ending up in another shabby cot. His mind was fading.

"He is not acting himself. It worries me greatly. I do not feel it is my place to gain the answers I need."

"So you called me."

"That is but one reason. May I inquire on Raphael's health?"

Don froze as the voices continued. They were unaware he was awake, that much was evident. His eyes scanned the subway car around him for a better view of the speakers.

"He's... It's not good. We just don't have access to the supplies we need for him. I couldn't tell Mikey."

"Hope may not be lost yet, Leonardo. I will do all I can to help your brother. You have done more for me already."

Donatello stared out at Leatherhead and Leonardo as they moved about the station lair of the former. Tears threatened to fall and he squeezed his eyes shut against them. _Raph..._

"So, where is Don right now?"

"He is resting in my sleeping quarters. I have a cot set up for him there."

Don ducked before LH finished his sentence. He wasn't ready for company just yet. He knew Leo wanted his questions answered. Questions Donny didn't even know if he had an answer to right now. He had too many questions of his own swimming around in his head.

_You question too much. It would be simpler to just give in._

"Don, you're up?"

Don jumped in surprise as his eyes focused on his brother standing in the doorway. He didn't respond. Instead, he slowly got to his feet and averted his eyes.

"Can you answer some questions for me, bro?" This time Leo's voice sounded calmer. "Please don't run off again. I just want to know what happened. That's it." Leo raised his hands with open palms towards Don. He was talking like he thought his brother could blow up any minute. Didn't he understand? Maybe Leo wasn't ready to hear the truth.

"I killed Raphael." Don blinked at his own words. "Is that what you wanted?"

"Raph isn't dead."

"Yet."

"Donny..."

"No." Don's face darkened before he shoved the cot into Leo as hard as he was able. He didn't linger long enough to see Leonardo double over with a gasp. An old window where the glass had long ago fallen out was the perfect escape.

"Wait, Don!" Leo yelled after him, hoarsely.

"Wrong again. I am not Donatello. Your pathetic pea-brain can't even tell the difference between your brother and an interloper?" The purple-masked turtle grinned.

"Then who am I speaking to?" Leo demanded. He leaped the few yards between what appeared to be his brother and the train car. One hand twitched for the touch of his katana, but he didn't reach for it yet.

"Ah, ah, ah. That's a secret between me and your brother. Or what's left of his free thoughts anyway. There's not many of those remaining. It's beginning to get annoying how often he complains about that. I would feel better if he shut up all together. Permanently."

With a roar, Leonardo jumped into battle. His katana sliced through the air. He couldn't have expected Don's hand to catch the deadly sharp blade. Brown eyes briefly flashed pain behind the purple mask as Leo's own eyes widened in horror at the blood dripping down his choice weapon.

"Look what you've done," the imposter spoke in a mockery of Don's voice. "That's your own brother's blood. Go ahead and strike him again. Save us all the trouble."

Leatherhead roared as he watched the exchange from his open lab. His golden eyes turned cat-like as he bared his teeth at his enemy.

"Stand down, LH," Leo said; his voice unfaltering. His grip on his katana loosened, but Don's didn't.

"Relinquish your sword." Donatello's voice grew harsh as his grip tightened around the sharp blade.

Leo cringed as more of his brother's blood spilled over onto his hand. "You'll slice your hand in half if you keep that up!"

"That's the point. If you don't let go, he _will_ be one hand short."

Leo didn't waste another second. He released the weapon like it was a snake.

"Pity. I was hoping you would go ahead and kill him anyway." Don's face twisted into a smirk before slamming the katana's sharp edge into the brick wall behind him. The steel bent back by the force before it snapped near the _tsuba_.

Leo glared at the destruction of his favored weapon. "Leatherhead, contain him but don't hurt him."

"Of course, Leonardo." The crocodilian beast surged forward. Before he got too close, a sharp shard of the broken katana slid along Don's bare neck. His own hand applied enough pressure to allow his blood to drip down his front.

"Stop!" Leo yelled, stepping forward with his eyes wide. Leatherhead froze in his charge in his own worry for his friend.

"You would not believe how simple it would be to slice his neck open right here. Just give me a reason." Don's voice showed no pain but his eyes told a different tale.

"What do you want with Donatello?" Leo asked. "Stop being a coward and using my brother as a shield!"

"Only if you come with me. Just you."

"To where?"

"You haven't figured it out yet? I suppose you do tend to make yourself a lot of enemies. Who else could have the intellectual know-how to create something of this magnitude? Though, if I had a choice, I wouldn't have wasted my brilliance on such a despicable creature."

Leo's eyes narrowed at the slight on his brother before he recognized the speech pattern. "…Stockman?"

"That's better. Now you'll come with me or the 'smart one' will be no more."

"Leonardo…?" Leatherhead turned to Leo.

"…I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Leo turned to LH, "Tell Master Splinter and Mikey everything. I can take care of myself in the meantime."

"That's what you think," Donatello's harsh voice chided. "Now hurry. I don't have all day with this meat suit. I would advise you to refrain from trying anything. I've honed in on your brother's instincts. I think he would know you better than anyone."

Leonardo nodded before handing over his remaining katana to Leatherhead. "Lead the way."

"First, let me collect a few things for the journey." He slowly moved about the room, grabbing the items he believed necessary for what he had planned.

LH growled as he touched his stuff. "You're still working for Bishop."

"He is my financial backer. It was his grand idea to use my technical genius on this atrocity of a genetic mistake." Donatello's voice sounded disgruntled.

"For how long?" Leo asked him.

"Too long. You imbeciles are too easy to fool. Even the so-called 'smart one' thought he was just sick." Don walked over to the exit. "We're leaving now."

Leo nodded again, his piercing eyes narrowed. Donny knew that look. Leo's mind was working overtime for the one plan that could help him.

"Remember, Leo. I know you too well for you to pull one over on me so easily." The quote was reminiscent to Donatello's own way of speaking. The mind behind the controls hoped to prove his power.

Leonardo preceded him out of Leatherhead's lair. Donatello's practiced eye watched his body signals closely.

The longer this control lasted, the more often Don's own thoughts intruded in the shared mind. The purple-masked turtle paused yards from the threshold of the lair and looked back.

_I don't want to hurt anyone…_

"Donny?" Leo called as he turned back.

Donatello's fingers fiddled with an electronic device longer than the controller would have liked. "The beast won't feel a thing," he said aloud to the thought. He caught Leo's rushed approach as he pressed the button. Leatherhead's lair rumbled in explosive power. The front door blew out into the sewers. The force of the catastrophe sent both turtles flying back.

Before Donatello could attempt movement, Leonardo was on him. "That's the end of your joy-ride!"

"Leo?" Don blinked up at his brother. "What's going on?" He groaned, "My head's killing me…" He squeezed his eyes shut as his head pounded against his skull.

"Donny?" Leo didn't loosen his piercing grip just yet. "Listen to me: Stockman is using you. You have to fight his control."

"Ahh!" Don twisted beneath Leo's grip. His fisted hands shook as he tried to pull them near his head. "Make it stop!" His knees pulled inward, feet scraping against the rough concrete. "I can't… Leo, help me!"

"I'm trying. You need to concentrate. You can do this, Don. I know you can." Leo's grip was loosening. It was hard enough containing a squirming figure. The fact that it was his brother in agony only made it harder.

Without any warning, Don's knee jabbed into Leo's vulnerable side. The blue-masked turtle tumbled off his brother. Don flipped to his feet with nary a sign of a struggle left in his features. "Typical," his voice returned to its harsh state. "I knew you couldn't resist falling for your brother's distress. Did you enjoy the show?"

"Bastard," Leo grounded out. He slowly got to his own feet, his hand glancing against his sore side. "You will pay for this."

"You said it yourself: you 'have no choice'. Let's proceed, now that it has been straightened out."

Leo's fists clenched in defiance. "No. This time, you can't use my weapons against me."

"I still have the advantage." Don pulled out a vial from his belt and shook it a little. "I wouldn't advice attacking again with this in play. I won't bore you with the details. You couldn't comprehend them anyway. Just know that if what's in this vial touches the wet surface of the ground, you and your brother will go up in flames. It's highly combustible in the presence of H2O. I would only be too glad to teach you a lesson in chemistry." He allowed the vial to slip a few inches from his grip.

"Your boss wouldn't approve. I know Bishop. He'd rather have us alive. Why else would he go through all this trouble with Donatello if he could have killed him just as easily?"

"The way I see this? You might survive." The vial shot through the air at Leo's feet. The blue-masked turtle moved quickly, but it wasn't fast enough. The chemical reaction was instantaneous. The alkali metal reacted violently in contact with the water, causing a fireball. The fire caught Leo's leg and traveled wherever his body was in contact with the sewer channel.

Donatello threatened to break free of the control at Leo's startled scream. His vision blurred as his brother fell. His head pounded in a fury as he echoed his brother's scream…

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><p><strong><span>AN: Feed the comment box to hear what happens to Leo ;)**


	10. Artificial Intelligence

**A/N:**** So...I know I'm a terrible person. I had the rough version of this down a month ago, but I finally got it typed up for my Beta to look it over a few days ago. Anyone waiting to get answers? Well, here are those answers! No more secrets here! I love writing lines for Bishop . It's really thought-provoking. Anyway, I won't hold you up any longer. Happy reading!**

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><p>Bishop could hardly contain his distaste. The trial run was successful, sure, but the outright refusal to follow the plan only reinforced his desire to replace Stockman. The massacre at the Bank of Manhattan could have gone wrong in too many ways. He reviewed the footage before him from three different angles. One of the angles was from the eyes of the culprit himself. The amount of carnage was unfeasible. Therein lay the flaw in Stockman's reckless act. Death so vile always gathered the most media attention.<p>

There was a groan behind him. Bishop remained stoic. He knew exactly what it meant. There was one benefit to the night's events. That _benefit_ was currently contained into the examining table in the middle of the room. He turned the volume up on two of the security tapes before him for his guest. At the very least, he could make use of the failings of his subordinate.

He could see the captive's reflection in the glass-finished walls. He watched the initial struggle before the turtle stilled. He was watching the videos as well now. Only then did Bishop address him. "It's messy business, what you see before you, but what Stockman lacks in tact…"

He watched Leonardo's fists clench as one video froze on the clear image of the perpetrator's ungloved hand. Bishop knew there would be no doubt in his prisoner's mind just who the hand belonged to.

He turned to face his captive. Leonardo's skin was covered in burns. Bishop knew he had to be in pain. The leather bindings were taut against his skin. His men had not been gentle when they prepared him for this meeting. "I find it very intriguing to see the passive turtle committing such devastation. Don't you?" Bishop slowly approached his furious prisoner.

"You'll regret that." Leonardo's voice was low and gravely. "You'll regret every minute you've forced my brother to do your dirty work." He tugged against his binds, uncaring about further pain.

"Including bringing you here?" Bishop asked. "Not to mention what he did to Raphael. How is now, by the way? Do you think Michelangelo can keep him alive without you?"

"If Raph dies, you're dead." Leo turned away from his captor. "Don will break free from your mind game. You can't keep playing him like a _damn_ _puppet_."

"I can and I will." Agent Bishop moved around Leonardo to a metal table just out of sight. A computer system was set up for him there that controlled the three monitors. "What you are unaware of, Leonardo, is the finality of the procedure done on your brother's brain. With only a few clicks of my remote system, I can cut his mind off from his body. Permanently".

"How?" Leonardo asked, his voice laced in fury. "What you are talking about is science _fiction_. It's not even possible! What stops me from just breaking your little toy?"

"I wouldn't recommend it." Bishop tapped a few keys on the computerized command system. Two of the monitors before Leo changed what they were showing. Only the one through Don's eyes remained as it was. "This is what is inside your brother." One image showed a series of figures flashing across the screen. The other showed an x-ray image of the back of Donatello's neck. The image clearly showed something that should not have been there. It looked like a mechanical insect attached to Don's brainstem.

"It's fully integrated into Donatello's system. If you attempt to remove it, you'll risk paralyzing him for the rest of his life. That is if he survives the procedure at all. Considering your limited access to medical supplies, he will have no hope of survival. My device has full control of his bodily functions as well. I can induce a heart attack easily. It's part of the failsafe."

Leonardo jerked the table slightly in his rage.

Bishop caught the stifled cry from the action as he returned to Leo's side. "If you don't calm down, you might cause yourself further injury. We wouldn't want that. You might miss out on the dissection I plan to have Donatello perform."

"He's not your puppet! You will not use him as one!"

"I don't have to use him, as you say." Bishop adjusted his dark glasses to hide the glee in his eyes. "There is another entity at play. An AI that has some will of its own. That is what will dissect you. The AI program already claimed its first victim. No carbon based life form ordered Donatello to take Raphael's life. That was only the result of the computer's programming as it fed on your brother's own mental processes. You can consider it like Dissociative Identity Disorder. It works much the same way."

Leonardo refused to respond. There was nothing more he could say and Bishop knew it. He had won. Donatello was fully and completely his to control. Bishop had thought of everything.

* * *

><p>The dark underground tunnels blurred before him as Donatello followed a familiar route. He felt physically ill with remorse from an event he couldn't even remember in its entirety. It didn't matter how much he could recall. He knew enough to feel regret.<p>

"Leatherhead…?" He called even before crossed the threshold of the caved in lair. The devastation was suffocating. His breathing caught as slumped to his knees. "LH…" He fisted the ground before him. _Why am I not strong enough? I'm a ninja, a _genius_, and I can't fight off one damn voice in my head?!_

He could still hear the bricks shifting and the echoing clatter of cement chips sprinkling the floor. A familiar whirling barely broke through his thoughts.

_But I'm not just any voice, Donny. I'm you._

"No." Donatello defiantly shook his head. His hands tightened around the fragmented stone. He couldn't stand for some bodiless thought. He desperately wished it away.

_You can't deny what is proven fact._

His hand brushed against his own neck. His eyes widened and he jumped back with a cry. "No, stop it!" he yelled at his betraying hand. "Get out of my head!" One hand moved to cover his ears, but the other remained in place. His arm was out of his control.

"Donny!"

Donatello jerked back at the close proximity of the voice. "…Mikey?" He found his brother with his eyes and quickly put more distance between them. "Stay over there!"

"Where's Leo?" Mikey frowned from where he stood some twenty feet away. His twin nunchucku hung limply in his hands. Don knew the stance well. Mikey was tense, but unsure. _He knew something. Why else would he be _here_?_

"Why are you here?" Donatello asked to confirm his suspicions, ignoring his brother's question. Don's stance remained defensive. The cloud hanging over his mind was bidding its time and he knew it.

"You installed an alarm to alert us if anything happened to LH's lab. Remember?" Michelangelo looked confused. His gaze never strayed from Don.

"Oh, yeah…" _How could I forget _that_?!_ Don shifted in his frustration.

"Leo was here an hour and a half ago. I know because he was on the phone with me, then, to tell me he tracked you down." Mikey slowly stepped forward. "Where is Leo?"

_Yes, where is he, Don? Do you remember?_

"Stop!" Donatello held his head with one hand as the other shot out to stop his brother's advance.

Mikey froze. His fingers played against his favored weapons. "Donny…do you know what happened here?"

_Do you? I can do this all day, you know. How about we just…forget what's not important._

The pain in his head tripled in intensity all at once. Donatello screamed out as his knees once again hit the ground.

"Donny?"

_We can make it stop. You know we can._

He couldn't silence the voice in his head. It was only growing louder. Taunting him. Pounding into his thoughts and scattering them into pieces. If only he could just stop _thinking_! "Get out of my head!"

The voice just laughed. It knew what it was doing to him.

A touch to his shoulder brought him springing into action. His hand snapped forward and pulled. The elbow of his other hand drove into the back of the neck. All he could hear was the disembodied being mocking him in his own voice. If only he could kill that voice!

"Donny! Don, stop!"

His vision cleared at his brother's voice. He immediately backed away in horror. There was Michelangelo. On the ground. Gasping. Where he had just moments before been attempting to kill the voice.

"I…" Don began, but he couldn't form a clear thought. _What's wrong with me?_ He felt so very powerless in that moment.

_Nothing's wrong with us, Don. We are what we were always meant to be. We'll do many great things together._

"You _did_ do something to Leo…didn't you?" Mikey stumbled to his feet, rubbing his now sore neck. "Just like you hurt Raph. And LH… Why? What's making you do all this?"

"Just go home, Mikey," Donatello sighed in defeat, "Before something else happens. I can't control this…" He glanced down at his open palm.

_We can snap his neck so easily. You know we can. We've done it before._

Don cringed at the thought and dropped his hand to his side.

"Answer my questions! I need to know!"

_Or maybe we should just smash his head in. We can really see how much of a brain he has. What do you think, Donny?_

"No!" Don yelled as his hands rejoined the sides of his head. His eyes found his brother's. "I don't want to hurt you, Mikey. I don't-"

_Do you really think covering your ears will shut me out?_

"-_But_ you have to get out of here!" Don's voice rose over the volume in his own head.

_We're one, Donny._

"I don't know how long I can stay in control."

_You can't block me out, Don. You can't stop me from doing what _we_ want._

"Mikey…" Donatello could feel his control shift. The feeling was so alien to him. He felt the muscles in his arm move no matter how much he wanted to be still. His voice quickened. "Leo…" The memory was broken into pieces, but it was paramount that he tell Mikey as the name came to him. "Bishop. Free him, Mikey. Please…"

_It's a real shame he'll only get to see Leo again as a guest. Isn't it, Donny? But don't worry. I won't hurt him much. That's not what we want._

The last of Don's conscious thoughts were filled with the horror that the voice would get its way…

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><p><strong><span>AN: Please feed that comment box! Its full belly makes for happy endings XD**


	11. On The Run

**A/N: This chapter is a Mikey-special! XD Enjoy the complete attack of the Mikey all over this chap XD I will dedicate this chapter to my beta, Duckiepray, because Mike's her favorite and she helped settle my nerves on wiggling a bit with my strict POV center. I don't think I could have written this scene half as well if it was from any other perspective. This is why I don't do strict outlines either XD If I did, this scene and the next one wouldn't be here. This chapter actually gave me an idea by the end of it for a MUCH later scene (like ending climax scene which is still some chapters off). This was still one of the harder chapters to write even though Mikey usually leads _me_ while writing unlike his brothers who I have just a bit more control over XD Anyway, I shouldn't hold you back from reading any longer. Enjoy!_  
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><p>Michelangelo barely escaped when Donatello lunged at him. He could still feel the phantom grip of his brother against his wrist. The only way he could free his arm was to painfully twist away. It was a pain he could easily ignore, but he still favored his good right wrist as he jumped on his skateboard and took off. He couldn't let himself get caught; he knew that could end up being his doom if he did.<p>

He skated through the dark tunnels as fast as he could safely go. He still couldn't believe he was running from his own _brother_. That shift in his brother's stance, the broken plea of warning before Don attacked him… It just wasn't _Donny_. It couldn't be. No, it was more like something out of a horror film. Donatello's eyes were cold when he attacked. Cold with the desire to kill…

Mikey couldn't hear his brother behind him anymore. He knew better than to believe Don had given up. He was probably still behind him. _I wish I could just _hear_ him so I'd know what he's doing now._ He pulled out his shell cell as he turned the corner. _I have to call dad…_ He had left his father without a word when the alarms went off. _I just hope he answers quickly…_ He disconnected the headset and put it on so he could keep his hands free. Once he pressed the speed dial, he only had to wait. _Come on!_

"Michelangelo?"

The voice on the other end allowed him a moment to relax. He sighed in relief before responding, "Sensei! I found out what happened at LH's. Is Raph doing any better?"

"Your brother is holding on for the moment. Tell me what happened." The sensei's voice came in various volumes, showing the still inept attempt to work with technology.

"It's Don." Mikey ducked a low-hanging pipe before using it to jump a gap with his skateboard. His voice came out in a rush. "There's definitely something wrong with him. I knew he was getting weird these past months… He attacked me! Like, seriously tried to kill me! He said something about Bishop and Leo… He told me to free him! Sensei, the lair was trashed! Even the ceiling had fallen in places and I found LH under all this debris and he wasn't doing so good. I thought he was dead at first, but I think he was just unconscious and I had to leave him because of Don. I don't know what to do! I can't go home now because that'll just make it easier for Donny to find me…"

"Calm down and breathe for a moment, _musuko_. That is always the best place to begin."

"I can't. I know he's behind me somewhere. I don't think I lost him, but I have no clue where he is! Why does it have to be _Donny?!_ He'll find me, I know it! He's got all his tech stuff to help him… I'm so screwed! He's the worst to go psycho! I'm so going to get caught and then he'll do something really horrible to me. Like Leo! I saw the broken shards of one of his katana! What if he does that to me?! I don't want to be broken into tiny Mikey pieces!"

"Michelangelo!" Splinter's stern voice shattered Mikey's panic in one word.

"Sorry, sensei…" Mikey took a few deep breaths as requested earlier. "It's just…we're really down to the wire on who we can call for help right now… It's just me now because you have to stay home for Raph…"

"_Hai_, I am aware of how dire the situation is. I assume you are planning to go straight to Bishop's?" The rat's tone showed he already knew the answer. "I suggest at least bringing Mr. Jones along. While you are there, bring back as many medical supplies as you can find to aid in your brother's recovery."

"Will do, sensei. I'm heading to Casey's now. Call you back when I get Leo." He didn't wait for Splinter to say his own goodbyes. The ladder that would take him near Casey's apartment was already in sight. He hung up the phone and hooked his skateboard onto a strap along his carapace.

He took the climb slowly in case it decided to break on him. It was rusty and rarely used, especially this time of year. Mike could already feel the cool night air as he neared the manhole cover. He only lifted it a few inches to give the alley a cursory glance. When he was sure it was safe, he climbed out.

The winter chill bit at his exposed skin; he regretted not wearing a coat as it whipped his mask tails over his shoulder. This was the worst time to go on a turtle-hunt. Large snowflakes followed his progress to the fire-escape, coating his form in their chilly embrace. He ignored them as he scaled the building in record time. Casey was only a few buildings over and Mikey seriously contemplated borrowing a coat from him when he arrived.

His head was still reeling from the encounter with Evil-Donny. _I should have seen it earlier!_ he scolded himself. _Why didn't I?_ Every possible sign that something was wrong with his brother revealed themselves as he ran. Signs he had missed. _I didn't even question when he zoned out on us. Stupid!_

Mikey didn't allow himself to think differently. Everything had to tie into this one moment, whether relevant or not. He needed to believe it. _Even that dream…_ He thought back on that night five days ago. He could almost see the dark shadow watching him once again. He remembered the fear of impending danger that had him surfacing from the night terror with wide eyes. _But no one was there. Still, maybe it was like that crystal dream. I should've seen it!_

He breezed down the side of a building and stopped in front of the window to Casey's shabby apartment. He knocked on the glass, impatiently, for several minutes.

"Hey, hold on a minute! I'm comin'! Ya can quit tha racket. Don't wanna give tha old landlord another excuse to kick me out." Casey's voice rumbled out of the room before the window was yanked open. The glass vibrated at the abrupt movement and a shard of glass wiggled free to clatter, noisily, against the grating Mikey stood on. "Dammit! I know that old bastard will add that ova my rent. Like I already don't pay enough for this piece a' shit closet.

Casey Jones looked more of a mess than usual. His shoulder-length hair stuck up in places; a pair of stained fleece pajama bottoms hung limply around his hips, the playful candy cane design clearly revealing them to be a gift from April; and his face looked drawn and old, even though he was still comfortably in his mid-twenties. He shuffled over to move the dozen empty beer bottles off the old patched couch in the middle of the room.

"We don't have much time," Mikey said as he climbed inside, taking extra care with the broken glass. "Where's Shadow?" He checked out the window before closing the blinds. Beads of light shimmered between the holes, but it was not enough to penetrate the deep shadows of the apartment. He didn't see the little girl anywhere.

"She's wit' April's sister. Robyn's been helpin' out a lot wit' this. I don't think she believes I can handle it. Bitch. I can, just don't fuckin' give a shit right now. Ain't got no right takin' my kid."

Mikey watched his actions closely, before turning away to the slob of the room. "If I was Robyn, I'd do the same at this point. Now stop talking and get dressed. I need your help. If you're not sober enough, you will be." He grabbed a worn sweatshirt that was slung over a table and shrugged into it. It would have to do with keeping him from hyperthermia. Not many things could fit over his shell.

"She's my kid! If you so much as start with me too, ya can turn yer shell around and get outta my apartment!" Casey tugged his pants further over his hips as he stomped over to the kitchenette. "I need another beer."

"No, you don't," Michelangelo stated, firmly, as he forcibly dragged his friend away from the mini-fridge and in the direction to the single bedroom instead. "Get dressed. I'll get your gear. Where did you stash them anyway?" Mike scanned the dilapidated apartment.

"You goin' fightin', huh? Ya don't need me. Ya got yer bros ta baby-sit. You forget my girl's still in the hospital, shitface?!" Casey nearly growled. "Ya don't be tellin' me what ta do! Almost two damn months now! She ain't eva' wakin' up! Fuck!" He shoved the end-table next to him, toppling the lamp that was standing on it. The bulb shattered upon impact with the floor, but it barely registered with the fiery dark-haired vigilante.

"You're in luck, then," Mikey wasn't fazed by Casey's reckless act. He snatched up Casey's bag from its hiding place and tossed it at him. "I _don't_ have my bros, by the way. All thanks to Bishop. Raph's dying, Leo's Bishop's guest, and Don's out to kill me. You _will_ get dressed and help me rescue Leo. He's the only one that can fix this."

Casey was never a good catcher. He was even worse when he was half-drunk and hung-over. He busied himself with picking up all of the spilled sports' equipment as he listened. He slowed with each reveal before standing to full height with slightly widened eyes. "Shit, Mikey. I get it." He roughly pushed his bag against the table before disappearing in his room, slamming the door behind him. "All you guys got tha fuckin' worst timin' ever. There should be an award fer it."

"Not our fault."

"Yeah, I know that. Still's shit timing." Minutes later, Casey stepped out of his room fully clothed. He swung his bag over his shoulder and slipped his mask over his face. "I wanna good one-on-one with Bishop. He needs ta learn not ta shoot other people's girlfriends.

"We'll see," Mikey said as he led the way out of the apartment. The cold chill greeted him once again, but the bite wasn't nearly as bad as earlier. He still wasn't as bundled up as much as his brothers would approve of, but it would suffice for now. His eyes cast to the glittering pinpricks of multi-colored lights hidden among drifts of the swirling snow. _Christmas Eve_._ Some holiday I'm having so far…_

"Why tha hell is Don trying to kill ya anyhow?" Casey blurted out as he kept pace behind him.

Mikey didn't answer right away. He ran and leaped between buildings in silence as he continued the thought on his brother's deterioration into what he was now. _He was weird even before Thanksgiving. In fact…that whole flu or whatever lasted suspiciously long._ The pieces were beginning to fit together. _Which means the only time Bishop was close enough to do anything was…_ "Oh, duh! How can I be so stupid?!" Mikey nearly stopped running entirely as the thought crossed his mind.

"What? Whatchu talkin' about?"

"The power plant back in June," Mikey spoke, slowly. "Bishop got really close to Don there. I mean, he punched him right off the walkway! I always thought it was weird how he disappeared like right after, too. We never figured out what he wanted from the place. Nothing was reported stolen or tampered with. You saw the news, there was nothing! The whole situation was odd. Even how we found out about it, too. Don got this alert from one of his constant searching things and Bishop _never_ made mistakes like that before. We always found out about his heists while they were happening. We never had a clue before one. …It's starting to all make sense now."

"What'd he do, Mike?"

"Mind control. Bishop's controlling his mind to make him do whatever he wants him to do." Mikey paused in his speech just long enough to cross a larger gap with the help of his nunchucku and a clothesline. "When he attacked me today, he did _not_ look himself. He looked more like some…I don't know. I don't want to think too much on it. You see? I'm sure Bishop could do that. He's got the resources and the knowledge. And if he doesn't, Stockman does."

"That's fucked up. It can't be real." Casey followed, clumsily. "Do ya know where we're headin'?"

Mikey stopped running to bring out his shell cell. He played with buttons before bringing up the screen he wanted. "You know, I didn't think to check this before. You'd think Bishop would get wise to the tracker, right?"

Casey stared at him for a full minute before flinging his arms out on either side of him in aghast. "Yer tellin' me we've been headin' nowhere fer tha past twenty minutes?! Dammit, Mike!"

"Hey, I was more worried about getting found by Donny! And I did have an idea which direction to head. Over the past few months, we've nailed down a few of Bishop's possible haunts. I just didn't think…whoa, seriously?" Mike's eyes widened at the screen before him.

"What now?" Casey grumbled.

"…Bishop left Leo's cell tracker on. That doesn't seem right…"

"A trap?"

"That's what I'm thinking. With Don on his side, it has to be. But I have to do something. It's the best lead I have. Casey?" Mikey turned to look at his friend.

"Ya don't even gotta ask. Ain't no way I'm missing out on this." Casey's fists clenched. "I gotta score ta settle. Lead tha way, Mike."

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><p><strong>AN:**** Now you know what to do. ;) A certain review box is hungry! And once you're done with that, you can hop on over to Duckiepray's Bonds! It's getting really good as per usual with her epic fics! XD**


	12. A Murderer

**A/N:**** So this chapter is thanks to the anonymous reviewer from a week ago. The full critique was such a welcome sight, I felt obligated to get this done. Of course, having my beta say she wanted more helped as well, but that review o.o It's what all aspiring writers want to see. This reviewer, known only as Sarah-chan, is now up there with Peechy-Keen in reviewing :D Sarah-chan, I thank you.**

**I will also mention that this fanfic has been nominated for Best Drama, Best Tragedy/Angst, and Best Villain in the Steathy Stories 2012 Fanfic Competition. If you want this fic to win check out www. 5wwwww5. steathystories/viewtopic?t+18443&mforum=stealthystories where the ballot is located. Voting day is Monday, April 29****th****, 2013.**

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><p>Once Michelangelo had disappeared from sight, it became easier to regain control. Donatello slumped back against the rough sewer wall and slid to the ground. The scrape of his carapace against the brick held him firm in the reality breathing around him. It was a great relief to find himself spared from ripping through another of his family's lives. A relief that he doubted would last.<p>

_We still could have caught him, you know._

"I'm glad _you_ didn't," Don seethed at the pariah worming its way into his thoughts. "I'm done letting you ruin me. I'm taking my life back. You're _finished!"_ His fists clenched as he glared into the waste-infested river before him.

The voice laughed, drowning him in the sound. _How…_mature _of you; placing the blame on someone else. Do you feel better for it? Guiltless? …In control?_

"I _am_ in control!" Don stood in a flourish of movement before stomping down the tunnel. "This is _my_ body." Even as he said it, part of him rebelled from the thought.

_It's good to hear you admit you're a murderer._

"Just… stop- twisting my words!" Donatello let out a grunt of frustration, his rage hindering his speech. "I'm stronger than you! I can beat you!"

_Enjoying your illusory victory? I bet it feels so great to deny the truth, but all you're really doing is wasting precious energy. Why don't you relax? You can trust me._

"Trust _you?_ Never!" As Don walked, his left hand reached for his shell cell, the one hand that _wasn't_ connected to a sore wrist. He was momentarily surprised he still had the cell on him before bringing it into view. It was powered down at the moment, blocking any signal transmitting to or from it. He reflexively turned it on as his thoughts cursed the voice. The tracking program flashed on the screen, gaining his attention. Don spared it a cursory glance and immediately found Mikey's signal flashing in Casey's neighborhood.

_We can easily catch him unaware._

"No. I won't!" The cell snapped shut in his hand as his pace quickened. He thought back on the encounter with his brother as he tested the minor wrist injury Mikey inflicted. He doubted anything was broken. _Probably just a sprain_. …_It took longer before I lost control…and I let Mikey twist out of my grip..._ "I can beat you. I _will_."

The voice roared with laughter, scrambling his thoughts. Donatello stumbled at the harsh quality of it, lifting his right hand to his head. The other hand blindly found the sewer wall for support. His vision blurred as nausea built up in his throat causing him to cough and heave. The unforgiving ground quickly rose up to meet him; his attempts to catch himself foiled by the voice's influence. In seconds, his body became his prison.

"You're wrong, Donny," The speaker taunted in Don's own voice. "You're playing into a game that has already been won. Your flailing and whining is entertaining, though. Do carry on."

_No…_ Donatello tried to move, but all he managed to do was flex his fingers. A frustrated noise escaped his beak. _Come on! This isn't… Just let me move!_

The voice mocked him with another laugh. "Having trouble, Donny? I thought you could beat me. You sounded so confident just a second ago. Now you're just dead weight like Raphie is."

_He's not dead yet,_ Don thought, firmly. A prickling sensation began in the arm trapped under the full weight of his body. His eyes closed in irritation against his distorted vision.

"So there's a chance he can live after that much blood loss with limited supplies?"

_Shut up and let me go! _Don put all his energy into forcing his body to obey him to no avail.

"Say please," the voice taunted.

Donatello's arm moved under him on its own. It twisted and bent against the weight still pressing down on it. Don winced as his already sore wrist was strained by the movement. He could almost hear the bones sliding against each other. _Stop!_ He fought against the growing pain, desperate to prove the voice wrong.

_01000101 01110010 01110010 01101111 01110010 00100000 01100011 01101111 01100100 01100101 00100000 00110100 00111001 00100000 01100100 01100101 01110100 01100101 01100011 01110100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01000100 01100001 01101101 01100001 01100111 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101000 01101111 01110011 01110100 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 01100010 01101001 01100100 01100100 01100101 01101110_

The series of ones and zeros flashed through his head seconds before he broke free from the voice's nefarious plan to break his wrist. He scrambled back to his feet, his breathing coming in short gasps as if he had run a marathon. He loosely held his throbbing wrist against his plastron. Don's gaze grew distant as he recalled what the numbers reminded him of. The nightmares all came back to him at once.

_You should be wondering now if you broke free or I released you. I bet you're curious to know._

Donatello took off into a run as if to put distance between himself and the voice. His scrambled mind could barely process what it all meant. _Binary code?_ It didn't make sense to him. At least…not presently. He was too distracted to note where his feet carried him. The voice had gone quiet, lingering at the back of his mind. If only he could enjoy the brief silence, but it was not to be.

The concealed door to the lair appeared before he realized he was heading there. He stopped abruptly and stared at the red streaks on the false pipe that would reveal the hidden door's keypad. It took him too long to realize the significance. _It's still there…_ The sight of it helped him realize just how long ago he had last opened that door. _It can't have been more than a day…since I…since Raph was attacked._

Donatello hesitated from opening the door. _Why did I come here?_ He worried it was for ill reasons. He never could tell anymore… _I shouldn't be here…_ It was possible the blood on the pipe was only one of many reminders he would find inside. It was a memory he would prefer to avoid, but something drew him to open that door anyway. He did so, slowly, careful not to make any unnecessary sound.

The open door revealed something he didn't expect. Don's eyes scanned the large room to find it empty. Stepping in a little further, he bent down where he remembered a trail of blood should have begun. But it was no longer visible. His fingers touched the rough ground as his mind filled in the missing glisten of blood. Don followed it with his eyes alone until they rested on the bathroom. The door was propped up against the wall immediately next to the doorway.

Donatello made his way over, slowly. His eyes were drawn towards the devastation that greeted him inside the room. While the main area was cleaned up, the bathroom was left just as it had been. He froze at the sight of blood and glass smeared together on the floor. This was the location of Raph's last stand…

A sudden loud clatter caused Don to jump in surprise. He frantically scanned the area for the culprit. A lonely mop rolled along the ground near his feet. Pale pink water trailed in its wake from the bucket pressed against the inside wall. Don bent down to retrieve the mop before it could escape further. The raggedy cords of the mop were stained with years old grim. Donny looked into the stagnant water filling the bucket halfway. He tested the temperature with his finger and found it lukewarm.

There wasn't a conscious decision for his next actions. Donatello moved without thought as he dumped the bucket's contents into the tub and refilled it with fresh warm water. The cleaning agent was left on the sink. He prepared the water with it and proceeded to finish the cleaning job. It was almost hypnotic. The swirling shades of red along the ground stole his thoughts and skewed them into something else entirely. He didn't want to see _that night_ play through his head. It was working so far until…

Don's gaze fell on a particular shard of glass. The protective shield he had erected shattered. Time seemed to stand still as he stared into his splintered reflection. Blood coated the glass in deep red splotches, distorting the image even more. He could almost see the burn scar mostly hidden by his mask, but that wasn't even close to what captured him so thoroughly. He slid to his knees, his hands groping for the glass. The memory it represented haunted him, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The ghost of a gurgling sound filled his ears, blocking out everything else. He could almost taste the blood on his tongue.

"…Donatello?"

With that single word, Donny could breathe again. He didn't turn around as the room grew warmer with the presence of his father. The shard of glass clattered to the ground from numb fingers as his eyes closed tight.

"I knew you would return home, my son." Splinter's voice was steady. "I did not wish for you to see this. Your brothers were pulled away before they could finish."

Donatello didn't respond. He couldn't get his beak to work. The guilt was too heavy.

"_Musuko_…" The furred hand of his father gently touched Don's shoulder. "You have done nothing wrong. I know you would not do this willingly. You cannot blame yourself. You are _guiltless_; a victim of something beyond your control."

"I should be stronger than this. I'm _weak_. This voice… _Nothing _works against it. There has to be a reason for that. I don't want to be a murderer…" Donatello pulled away from Splinter's touch. "You shouldn't be near me. I don't want you to be next…"

"_Iie_," Splinter firmly spoke the Japanese word for 'no', "I can defend myself if I must. You are _my son_. I will _not_ abandon you."

Don frowned but remained silent.

"Stand on your feet, Donatello. I will not stand any cowardice. I raised you to be strong in the face of adversity. You will not allow this to defeat you."

The power of his words drew Don to his feet. He shifted slowly, as if moving through a dense liquid. He still kept his gaze averted. His beak opened many times, but no words came to him. What could he say? All he had were excuses. In the end, all he could do was wait for judgment.

"Donatello." Splinter's voice softened.

"I can't! I've tried, sensei! I've done everything! I just…can't fight it…" Don grazed his fingers along the back of his neck. "It's too late…"

"_IIE!_" Splinter's voice was a force, blasting through Don's clouded desperation. His tail lashed against the ground behind him. "You are wrong. As long as you hold some free will, there is always hope. I will assist in banishing this 'voice' from your mind."

"How?" Don asked, quietly. His eyes narrowed, introspectively. "I'd do anything at this point. I'm through listening to it _laugh_ at me. I don't know if it's possible, though. Every time I try to figure it out, I black out." He finally looked up at his sensei in a silent plea for help.

"Come with me." Splinter guided Donatello out of the cramped bathroom. "It may be easier to discuss this in the living area."

Don was silent. He understood and was even glad Master Splinter chose to leave the room. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, the weight on his shoulders eased marginally. He followed Splinter's motion to sit down on the couch.

"Now, tell me everything. I will remember what you cannot. We will solve this together."

Don sighed in relief before looking up to him. Maybe there was hope. _Maybe…just maybe…_ He began with what bothered him the most: the binary coded message.

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><p><span><strong>AN:**** And another...short chapter is complete! Yes, I know. You're probably still wondering about that cliffhanger-ish event with Mikey and Casey? Well, I thought Don's tracks were a little more important to get told considering the whole timeline thing. Don't worry, I'm sure the answer about the possible trap will be in the next chapter. You'll just have to wait for it. Review and get chapters faster! When the review box is satisfied, I'm inspired to work through any possible writer's block a lot more diligently (as proof here with Sarah-chan's mega-review) )**


	13. Wins and Losses

**A/N:**** Well...I finally got this chapter done. I hope you all enjoy it! I also would love to take the time to thank my readers. This fanfic won first place for Best Villain and tied for second in Best Drama! I had trouble getting this out for multiple reasons from characters demanding the story be written differently to a camping trip I had the first week of this month. A small group of my readers got to know my issues by following my new Facebook page. You can like my author's page as well to get immediate updates as they occur! Just search my screenname! :D Now as for the story...**

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><p><em>01000101 01110010 01110010 01101111 01110010 00100000 01100011 01101111 01100100 01100101 00100000 00110100 00111001 00100000 01100100 01100101 01110100 01100101 01100011 01110100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01000100 01100001 01101101 01100001 01100111 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101000 01101111 01110011 01110100 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 01100010 01101001 01100100 01100100 01100101 01101110<em>

_Error code 49 detected. Damage to host forbidden. _Agent Bishop frowned at the read out on his web-uplink. He pulled up the data dump on the big screen. He knew what it meant. It was a problem he knew very well when working with Artificial Intelligence. Give them too many freedoms and they can bend the rules. _Or attempt to._ Bishop scrolled through the data on the screen.

He didn't look away from the data as he clicked the call button on his earpiece. "You can see what I am looking at right now," Bishop spoke with only a hint of venom.

"Hello to you as well, Bishop," Stockman grumbled. "I don't see how you're so disappointed. The AI did abide by the rules governing it. It didn't overwrite its programming. The host is still functional."

"I gave explicit instructions to avoid any flaw the AI could exploit." Bishop stood swiftly as he spoke. "Too much free will and the program _will_ be overwritten. You know that as well as I do. I cannot risk it terminating its host without a specific order from _me_. This error report reaffirms that possibility.

"I know it's either free will or the possibility of human error, every second the AI is left unattended could spell disaster for this whole project, but the AI can't have _this_ much freedom! I'm not going to underestimate the turtles again. Don't allow error reports like this one. They can reveal too much to Donatello. He must remain oblivious. This is why I chose him over his brothers in the first place!" Bishop glared into the wall.

"There's no need to worry. The AI learns from its actions. It won't fail this way again."

"You are _not_ helping your case, Stockman. If this fails, it's on you. Make sure it doesn't." Bishop broke the transmission.

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><p>Casey Jones was like a destructive bat out of hell. As soon as Michelangelo cleared the two guards walking the perimeter of the seemingly innocent warehouse before them, he stormed inside without hesitation. Each empty box became Bishop's various appendages as his bat tore through them. Mikey told him to be a distraction and that was exactly what he set out to do.<p>

He didn't question when the sheet metal doors squealed open and he wasn't questioning the distinct lack of an alarm as he expelled his rage. Though a part of him wished there was an alarm to show he was doing his job. He had to keep Bishop's attention on him for his job to work.

"_I disabled the alarm system,"_ Mike's voice spoke through his headset. "_…Or I hope I did. Donny usually does this stuff…but I don't need him. I got this. I don't _hear _an alarm… So that must mean we're good."_

Casey ignored the little voice in his ear. He wasn't done smashing things. _Off with his head…_ He took out a pile of crates in one swing. _Fucking smug smile…_ The sounds echoed around him. _Can't forget below the belt! _He swung upwards and barely scraped by the crates he sent tumbling over his head.

"_I found an office. I'm going to check it out. Have you gained any attention yet?"_

_Damn, fucking, bastard!_ Casey tore through the aisles with a bat in one hand and a golf club in the other. "How do you like it when I tear _your_ shit up?!"

"_Casey, don't go overboard. You're just drawing attention away from me."_

A door outside of Casey's line of sight opened with a hush. A twisted grin crossed his face. Finally some human targets. He moved through the dark hallways made of crates piled to the ceiling. He didn't even try to silence his footfalls. He wasn't a ninja and he wasn't going to pretend to be. Not when rage coiled in his veins just itching to spring.

It wasn't hard to find his target. Even in the limited lighting offered by high windows, Casey immediately knew that silhouette striding through the narrow space between the crates. He knew by the light glancing off a pair of sunglasses. Only one man would wear sunglasses at night. And that one man was going to die.

Casey charged forward with his bat held high. He aimed the weapon right at the back of Bishop's head, but the attack never connected. In a burst of movement, Bishop turned and yanked the bat out of Casey's hands. The man didn't have time to wonder about his weapon before he felt it smashed into his gut. He staggered back with a cry as his headset smashed against the ground.

"Casey Jones," Bishop calmly stated as the bat slammed into Casey's back. "I'm not at all surprised to see you here. The turtles current numbers must require it."

Casey let out a cry of rage as he rolled into a position to slam his feet into Bishop's chest. The federal agent stumbled back a few paces but retained his balance. Casey took that time to fully recover from Bishop's previous attacks.

"I know you're not alone, Jones. Where is Michelangelo? Off to find his brother, I presume?"

"Stop talking!" Casey hollered as he whipped his golf club at Bishop. The attack was clumsy and, to Casey's growing frustration, Bishop merely side-stepped out of the way of the club's downward arc. "Stand still, you asshole! I'll smash your goddamn brains in!"

"Always one for words." Bishop bowed back out of the way of the attack before swinging his knee around into Casey's side. "You didn't answer my question."

"Why I gotta be with them, huh?!" Casey growled as he took a moment to catch his breath. "Ever think I might just wanna repay you fer what you did to my girl?! I don't need the turtles to avenge April, you son of a bitch!" He sprung at Bishop, his club swinging wildly at Bishop's smug face.

"A means to an end," Bishop simply replied. He jumped up the crates with cat-like agility to avoid the furious vigilante. "It seems to be working well so far. She needn't die if all goes as planned. I only want the mutants. I'm not a murderer."

Casey growled as he lost sight of his enemy. He swore as he tore into the crates with a heated vengeance. "Damn. Bastard! I'll. Fucking. Kill. _You!_" He emphasized each word with a swing of his club. Only adrenaline kept him going at this point. That and a burning need to rip his girlfriend's shooter into ribbons. "My girl. _Is not_. A bargaining chip!"

"She doesn't need to be. You want your girlfriend fully recovered? I can make that happen. I have access to the technology she needs. Only if I get what I want."

"Asshole!" He broke through the last crate stabilizing the tower with one more rage-fueled strike. "I don't need your help!"

The resounding crash resulting from Casey's attack unbalanced him. He barely acknowledged the splintered wood falling around him as he searched for his enemy. He'd only just steadied himself when Bishop's foot collided with his head, sending him face-first into the hard cement. He didn't move immediately. A low groan rumbled from his chest as he tried not to pass out.

"You're not even worth my time," Bishop said as he landed in a perfect crouch before him.

Casey watched Bishop turn and walk away. The fury reignited in him, allowing him to regain his footing. He charged at Bishop, grabbing up his fallen golf club. He swung the club with a roar at the back of Bishop's head. Just as it was about to hit, Bishop turned to retaliate. Blood speckled the air seconds before Casey felt an electric current surge through his body. His muscles twitched in place for what felt like hours. His pain echoed in the large room before he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

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><p>Leonardo shifted in his binds. The leather straps scraped against his damaged skin, but he didn't cry out. He wouldn't show even a hint of pain in case his enemy was watching. He was sure he was alone, but he knew Bishop would most likely have something to keep an eye on him while he was out of the room. Something he wasn't too pleased about. He knew that would hamper his escape, but with his clan's numbers so low, he didn't want them to risk their lives trying to rescue him. He would do the job for them.<p>

To start, he needed at least one of his hands free. Leonardo put all of his concentration into wiggling his right hand out of the leather's confines. He leaned to the left, pulling his shoulder up to gain more room to work with. Anything that would distract him from his efforts was locked away. While he worked, he planned out his next move. Leonardo knew this would not be easy. He was injured and, as bad as the leather straps irritated his skin, he could only imagine how well he could walk. It was something that couldn't be helped. He wasn't a stranger to pain.

He almost had the sweet spot. The knuckle of Leonardo's thumb shrunk against his palm as the rough edge of the leather slowly inched its way down. It was a slow, tedious process, but patience was the easy part. He took his time and was eventually rewarded for it. His hand slipped free of the strap around his wrist, but there was still the long strap that also encompassed his waist. Though his hand and wrist felt rubbed raw, he didn't pause for a second.

It was only after his hand slipped free from the restraint that Leonardo finally let out a small breath of relief. He flexed his fingers and twisted his wrist, enjoying the limited freedom he now had. He took that time to examine the burns scattered over the back of his hand and up his arm. His skin only looked pale and inflamed in one centralized area. There was a little blood from his escape, but not enough to worry him.

Now he needed to remove the rest of his restraints. With the possible camera in the room, he knew he didn't have time to waste without possibly being caught. Leonardo sped up his movements, starting with his chest then continuing straight to his ankles. It didn't take long until there was only one strap left to remove.

He steadied his balance on the foot rest as one hand kept a firm grip against the side of the table. Leonardo's remaining hand pulled the leather free. His knees immediately buckled, sending him gracelessly to the ground. His hands burned from the impact on the cold ground, but that was overwhelmed by the worse pain in his legs. A strangled gasp escaped his beak before he could stop it. He grounded his teeth with his eyes tightly closed, waiting for the pain to pass.

Leonardo shifted and caught a good glimpse of the condition of his legs. The skin was blistered in scattered places, mostly congregated around his feet and ankles. It had been the initial point of contact with the fiery chemical reaction so Leonardo wasn't surprised that the burns were worse there. It would be a problem though. He mentally sighed before he used the examining table to pull himself to his feet. His ability to stand was slightly hindered by sharp pain in his feet, but it was doable. It was enough to urge him to the door.

He didn't even reach the door before a siren blasted through the room. His escape was noticed. Leonardo rushed the rest of the way to the door and paused. His eyes widened as he searched for a doorknob, only to realize there wasn't one. Above the door, Leo could see a small imperfection that, on closer inspection, could be technological in nature. It wasn't something he could do anything about, so he moved on. He had to leave the room another way.

Leonardo slammed his shell against the door, hoping to make some progress to his freedom, to no avail. The door was set in its frame in a way to prevent gaps. Even the floor was curved up and sat flush against the door. There wasn't any way to open that door by force from the inside. Leonardo's eyes narrowed in his frustration before he began a search for another way. Scattered vents provided air to the room, but were far too small to climb through. He walked over to the computer station Bishop had used to show him images he didn't want to think about at the moment. He soon found out even that required a passcode to operate.

Startling noises erupted outside in the hall. Leonardo whirled to face the door, his fists raised and legs spread in an _Ichimonji No Kamae_ stance, ready for any attack that may arise. He listened hard to the sounds, recognizing one that resembled a crash and a distinct electrical noise. His stance faltered in his confusion over just what was going on outside that door.

When the door finally opened, he didn't expect to see his visitor. "…Mikey?" His hands fell to his sides, one moving back to grip the computer table hoping to take some of his weight off his feet. He caught the frown on his brother's face before it could turn to a smile. Leonardo was sure he knew the reason for that frown. He knew how bad he looked.

"Leo!" Michelangelo's voice was an excited whisper. "You made it off that thing on your own?" He indicated the examining table with a jerking of his thumb towards it. "When I saw you on the CCTV camera, you were still all tied up."

"Yeah." Leonardo coughed to clear his voice as he took in his brother's appearance. An old sweater made his cursory glance difficult. "How's Raph doing?" He pushed off the table and hesitantly made his way over to Michelangelo. His brother moved forward immediately and stole some of his weight. Leonardo made a frustrated noise in response. "I'm fine. I can walk alright on my own."

Michelangelo snorted before responding to Leonardo's question. "He hasn't changed much. He's still out. Are you sure you can walk? Because you don't seem to be doing a good job of that. You look like hell, bro."

Leonardo glared at his brother without much feeling behind it. "It's not as bad as it looks." He waved his brother off. "Bishop told me about what he did to Don and how he's controlling him with some computer bug. He made Don do this to me. We have to free his mind somehow."

"I figured that's what happened." Michelangelo muttered, "I already ran into Evil-Don. We have to get out of here quickly. I'm not wasting time arguing with you about this. I either carry you or help you walk."

"Are you hurt? How did you find me?" Leonardo ignored the last part, but did lean into his brother's help.

"Your phone's in this building. I tracked it and found the security room. It wasn't that hard after that." Michelangelo grinned at his triumph. "Casey's going to meet us outside. Come on."

"Bishop should know by now not to have our phones remain traceable." Leonardo frowned. He allowed his brother to aid him as they made their way to the door.

"I thought of that. There wasn't much of a choice, though. I wasn't going to leave you here." Michelangelo peeked through the doorway before revealing the gray hallway on the other side.

Leonardo took in the smashed electrical box near the door that most likely controlled its locking mechanism. Then he noticed the speckles of blood on the wall nearby it. He made a guess that it was enemy blood; probably a guard. The siren was louder in the hall. Red lights flashed their warning at multiple intervals. Voices echoed in the halls, but their owners remained out of sight for now. Leonardo caught his brother's eyes, _Is there a plan?_

Michelangelo shrugged and jerked his thumb to the right and Leonardo followed his lead. There was a door that didn't have the same locks as the others. Michelangelo turned the door handle and it opened with barely a sound. He took only a second to scan the room before helping Leonardo inside.

It was a supply room. Metal shelves lined the wall on either side with cleaning equipment and various spare items stacked on them. The far wall had a mounted holder for brooms and mops. Michelangelo helped Leonardo sit against one of the shelves before he leaned against the door to listen. The tense look about his brother was something Leonardo was not used to.

The siren abruptly stopped mid-squeal before a com-system echoed down the hall. "Attention!" Bishop's voice was clear through the speakers. "As you all know by now, we have a guest within my facility. I will address this message to you, Michelangelo. I could easily have my men sniff you out without much effort on my part, but I know I do not have to. I know you will come to me. You wouldn't wish harm to come to your friend. Mr. Jones is here with me. I will see you shortly."

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><p><span><strong>AN:**** Well there you have it. This chapter was never meant to end here, but it was definitely a decent page count, as I found out when I finished typing it up. A lot of this was rewritten about three times, to show you how difficult the characters were being XD Now...feed that review box! I want to settle my mini-OCDness and get that 97 review count up to 100 at the least! XD**


	14. If I Should Die Before I Wake

**A/N: I was in the mood for more writing as you can see. I feel more like I'm writing for the fun of it than the chore it was before. I hope you enjoy this earlier update :D**

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><p>Michelangelo's fists clenched. "I told him to be careful," he whispered. "What do I do now?" He glanced over at Leonardo, his eyes wide with the anxious thoughts storming his imaginative mind. This was <em>his<em> fault. He led Casey to this. Now Casey will die because he's a terrible strategist. Terrible at everything, really. He didn't even disable the alarms right.

"You have to help Casey," Leonardo returned. "We can't allow another of our friends to fall for us."

"What about you?" Michelangelo frowned at Leonardo. He knew that look. The way his brother's eyes cast away from him. The way he shifted against the shelves with intention. Michelangelo knew his brother well.

"I'll be fine. I can still fight, if needed." Even Leonardo's voice even betrayed his stubborn need to be the hero.

"I'm not leaving you behind," Michelangelo spoke pointedly. "It's just not going to happen. It's my turn to keep you from getting killed, alright? So no trying to risk your life for me or Casey. Got it?" He pointed a finger at his brother to emphasize his point.

It looked like Leonardo was going to respond, but Michelangelo cut him off when he felt his phone buzz against his hip. He was not expecting anyone to call him. He gave his phone a curious look as he brought it out of its holster. The caller ID identified it as Donatello, making his eyes widen for a second before he answered the call. "Hello?" On the other end, he thought he heard a voice, but he couldn't make it out.

"_Michelangelo?"_ Splinter's voice came through the phone as clear as if the speaker was right up next to his mouth. _"Is it safe to speak? Where are you?"_

"Yeah, it's safe. I got Leo and we're just hiding out for a breather." Michelangelo felt Leonardo's eyes on him and met his gaze. Again, Michelangelo heard the muffled voice on the other end of the phone. "Is Raph awake yet?" He asked, believing that might be who the second voice belonged to.

"_How does that work again?" _Splinter's voice was quieter this time as if he had pulled away from the phone before resuming its loud tone. _"Raphael remains comatose. There has been no change."_

Leonardo's expression turned curious. Michelangelo answered his question before he could ask, "Still nothing." He walked over to sit next to his brother and held the phone between them. "Leo's listening now, sensei." Leonardo leaned into his brother to hear better.

"_This button?"_ Their sensei's voice was distant again, obviously talking with _someone_, but Michelangelo still couldn't figure out who. _"Ah, Leonardo. Are you well?"_

"I'm…fine, sensei." Leonardo answered stiffly. "To my knowledge, Bishop never touched me. But, Bishop has Casey now. He's trying to force Mikey out of hiding for him."

There was more chatter from the indestinct voice before the phone made a pained static cry on Splinter's end. The unheard voice finally became audible. _"Finally. Casey? Did you say Bishop has Casey?"_

"Donny?!" Both Leonardo and Michelangelo were taken aback by the voice. The younger turtle glanced at the elder before continuing, "Why are you there? I thought you were going to chase me all the way here!" Again, Michelangelo felt his brother's eyes on him at that confession.

"_I got sensei to chain me up. I won't be a danger anymore."_ Donatello's voice sounded determined, but small. _"I just…I just wanted to apologize. For everything."_

"It's alright, Don. Bishop explained everything to me," Leonardo said firmly, in that calm big brother voice he got when he's just below the leader card. "I know it's not your fault. It's his. He did this to you. He implanted you with some kind of computer-based mind control device that doubles as an AI."

"_It's…a computer…"_ Donatello sounded lost as he processed the information. _"An artificially intelligent computer program… Speaking to me in my head?! That voice belongs to the AI and I can hear it?! It…It must be…" _His voice rambled off.

Splinter softly told Donatello to calm down in his native language before addressing the phone. _"Michelangelo, how far did you come in your mission? Did you come across supplies? Do you require my assistance?"_

"Help would be awesome right now, sensei," Michelangelo said, with a glance at the door. "No, I haven't had time to get the supplies yet, but I do know where they might be. I still have to help Casey on top of that. I really don't think I can do all that _and_ get Leo out without more injury on my own. It seemed so easy getting in, too…"

"_Then I will be coming as quickly as I am able. Go head towards the supplies with Leonardo. I will be there in time to assist our ally."_

"_Hai_," Michelangelo agreed before he hung up the phone. He stood and made his way back to the door to listen for guards walking around beyond it. The hallway appeared to be silent. "There doesn't seem to be any guards nearby. Leo? Think you can help me fetch the supplies for Raph?"

"Yeah, I can manage it," Leonardo said as he slowly stood. "I just wish I had my katana." He frowned, a mixed expression on his face.

"I'm hoping we can get this done quietly. I don't wanna risk Bishop finding another way to rush us to him." He sighed. "At any rate, we should hurry before the guard dudes get back. They could be anywhere. This place is huge."

"Or they could just be fooling us into thinking it's safe."

"That too. We're going anyway?" Michelangelo looked to his brother for confirmation.

"Just keep an eye out." Leonardo joined him by the door.

Michelangelo peeked out the door, looking down both ends of the hallway on the other side. Just as he'd hoped, the hall was empty. He pushed through, leading the way down the hall to the right without hesitation.

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><p>Donatello shifted in his binds, trying to get more comfortable in the cushioned chair. Splinter had left him minutes ago, leaving the remote to the television within his reach. Each leather strap – one around his waist and one for each of his wrists and ankles – was secured comfortably but firmly. It was a better job than he would expect his brothers to do. For that, he was grateful. Maybe it would be enough to keep him from escaping.<p>

_Nice of him to try, but you know we can still escape. Especially when pain isn't a factor to _me_._

Donatello pointedly ignored the voice. Instead, he fingered the remote as he reflected on the phone conversation of earlier. He was worried about Casey. Once again, their human friends found themselves caught up in their affairs. _If he ended up dying too…_

_They're all going to die. One by one. I don't know why you even bother to waste so much time worrying about it._

Donatello stubbornly shook his head without a word. He flicked on the television in hopes that it would block out the voice. Maybe this time, he could accomplish just that. _Maybe…_ But he knew better. The AI would never leave him be. He didn't miss the irony that the hacker became the hacked; only made worse by the fact he seemed completely helpless against the program. _There has to be a way to destroy the AI…somehow._

_There isn't. Not without permanently cutting off your mind from your body. Now, stop with all this false hope or do I need to remind you we will always be of one mind?_

Donatello turned towards the closed door feet away from him. He knew Raph lay helpless inside the room beyond. The threat was clear to him. "No. I'm not going in there. I won't do anything more to him. He's already been hurt too much because of me…" His voice was firm until the end. "I'm tied up anyway. I couldn't even if you made me."

The voice laughed in his head. _These shackles can't hold us!_

Donatello's arm jerked against the leather binding it with such force, the whole chair toppled over. He barely had time to keep his head from splitting open when it bounced off the concrete floor. He didn't move immediately. The slight throb located at the back of his skull told him he didn't catch himself fast enough to completely escape pain.

"I'm not going," Donatello hissed. He could feel as the leather strap began to bite into his right hand. "No, I'm not going!" He repeated as he fought the action by firmly gripping the arm of the chair. "You won't beat me this time!"

_You are allowed eighty-seven percent control of our body. Stop me._

"I'm trying!" Donatello grunted in his efforts, but it seemed to be useless compared to what the AI chose to be its thirteen percent. He could feel his grip slipping from the chair. The binding was just loose enough not to hurt. Donatello quickly realized that was a mistake. His hand was almost free from the leather. Having as much control as he did was obviously just a way for the AI to show off. The theory was only proven when his hand was free of its burden. _No!_

_Too little too late. My turn._

With those words, Donatello lost complete control of his body. He was a prisoner once again. Truthfully, he was always a prisoner. He didn't know what was worse: the illusion of control or this. _I won't hurt my brother,_ he chanted, repeatedly, hoping the mantra would help give him the strength he needed.

_We _will _finish the job you failed to do before. So far, there has been little resistance if any. You must truly want this._

"No, I don't!" Donatello roared. "I _will_ find a way to stop you!" His eyes darted around the room for anything that might assist him in just that. It didn't matter what it was as long it kept Raphael alive.

Donatello stood before he realized he could. The voice had done its job. Now his binds were those the AI conjured up; the kind that only allowed movement of his head. He was to be a spectator to what the AI had planned and he had the best seat in the house.

Donatello's movements were fluid. The helpless spectator took note of that. Even as each step brought him closer to Raphael's death, he wryly marveled on how well the computer program seemed to emulate his own gait. Still, it came with a hollow feel. Maybe that was a clue to its weakness?

The door opened before him and Donatello immediately searched out his brother's still form. A thick bandage was wrapped around his brother's neck. The gauze looked fairly new; Splinter probably changed it sometime before he left. A blanket was pulled up to his shoulders and his face was bare; his mask carefully folded on a nearby table.

Donatello hardly noticed how close he was to Raphael until he was near enough to touch him. He looked into his brother's vacant face as his eyes began to burn from unshed tears. He put his brother here. _He_ was responsible for how close Raphael teetered between life and death.

_How should we finish him off? That cut's deep enough to reopen. We can allow him to bleed out until he finally gives up his hold on living._

Donatello's fingers brushed against his brother's neck. A small sound rumbled against his knuckles. It was so low, he would have thought he imagined it if he didn't feel it. "Raph?" He hesitantly whispered as he watched his brother's brows turn in as if in pain. _Is this really happening? Is he waking up?_

_All the more reason to finish the job quickly. Unless you want him aware of who his killer is? Is that why you hesitate now?_

Donatello's fist clenched against his brother's neck. He couldn't kill his brother. Not when Raphael was so defenseless. _I…can't…_

_Yes, you can._

The muscles in Donatello's hand snapped open of their own accord and closed around Raphael's neck in a burst of movement. His eyes widened as his head, the one thing left in his control, recoiled from the sight. Raphael had his own reaction to his impending death. One of the darker turtle's eyes squinted open and his left hand lifted inches off the table. Donatello could feel that hand softly pressing against his plastron; all Raphael's strength zapped away by his previous ordeal. His brother was helpless as Donatello drew out his air supply. A single, dull amber eye seemed to lock Donatello's brown ones in place.

A distant voice sounded behind him that he barely registered before noise erupted in the room. Donatello felt himself yanked away from his brother and he found himself sprawled on the ground. It happened so fast, his mind was still processing what had just happened. The AI, one the other hand, seemed to catch on a lot quicker.

"Leatherhead," the AI spoke through Donatello's beak. His eyes widened a bit in surprise as he took in the crocodile's form blocking Raphael from his sight.

Leatherhead looked like the survivor of an explosion. Burns and cuts marred his scaled skin. His purple belt was stained with blood and grime. Blood dripped down the side of his head. Donatello was glad for the proof that he still lived, but each injury was another mark for his growing guilt.

"I will not allow you to harm Raphael," Leatherhead spoke firmly. "Donatello, you need to come to your senses. You do not want to do this."

Donatello's face twisted into a smirk even as his eyes betrayed the sorrow he truly felt. "What if you are wrong? What if this _is_ what we want." He stood, brushing himself off with his eyes on the ground before him. "Why protect one who is already dying? We're only ending his misery."

Leatherhead glanced back at Raphael's gasping form. "Breathe easy, my friend. You will live through this." A soft, wheezy sound came from Raphael that could have been words, but they were too low for Donatello to make out. "Don't speak, Raphael." Leatherhead turned back to Donatello. "I know what you are. I ran into Splinter on my way here. I know you are using a program created by Bishop." His eyes turned to slits at the name.

Donatello clapped his hands at that. "Congratulations. The croc gets a prize. I bet you didn't know I neglected to switch off Donny's processor for once. I'm giving him every chance to stop me and he still refuses." His eyes scanned the room and landed on a spare Bo staff lying upright against some shelves.

"You sound different than when you attacked Leonardo."

"Because I am. I have no master giving me orders now. I am the voice that keeps Donny up at night. I have a name too. I am the Biomatrix Remote-controlled Artificially Intelligent Neurosystem; or you can just call me the BRAIN." Donatello grabbed the bo staff and spun it in his hands with the speed of an expert. "Unlike my creator's lackey, I know everything my host knows and have perfected the flaws he's unaware of." He struck out with the bo at a sharp angle towards Leatherhead's neck, aiming for a pressure point he knew would be there.

The large crocodile moved seconds before the strike came, but only just escaped the paralyzing hit. His tail banged against the cot's legs, nearly bringing it, and its occupant, down. The breathless turtle lying on the cot tried to push himself up, but Raphael was still far too weak to do more than turn his head towards the commotion.

"D-Don…" Raphael's whisper was finally loud enough to be heard.

Donatello was already moving for another attack, avoiding the crocodile's swipes for his bo, when he heard his brother's voice. It instantly drew his attention. That's when he noticed the blood freely seeping through Raphael's bandages. The sight froze him in place, allowing Leatherhead the opportunity to relieve him of his weapon.

"Raph…" In seconds, his body was his again. Donatello collapsed, not prepared for the abrupt swap of control. Leatherhead easily caught him before he could hit the ground and gave him time to hold his own weight. Donatello, then, pushed out of Leatherhead's loose grasp and rushed to his brother's side. "I'm so sorry. Your wound's reopened. This is all my fault!" His words came in a rush as he examined the mess he made.

"I'll assist you," Leatherhead offered before hurrying off to get the supplies they would need.

"S'tired…" Raphael muttered as his eyelids fluttered in an attempt to open them.

"You can't die on me." Donatello's hands shook as he slowly pulled away the stained bandages. "I need you to live. If you do, then there's hope I can beat this." He put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding.

Raphael groaned and tried to pull away from his touch.

"I know it hurts, but you need to stay still, Raph. You can't spare anymore blood loss."

"I have fresh wrappings." Leatherhead handed over the supplies to Donatello, who quickly thanked him.

Raphael's eyes stopped trying to open. Donatello could feel his pulse grow weaker beneath his fingers as he worked. The bleeding was slowing down, but it only brought fear instead of relief. "Raph, no! You can't leave me, alright? You need to hold on for me! I won't let you die!"

There was no response. Raphael's body was completely still. Donatello gave Leatherhead a quick, anxious look before doubling his efforts to keep his brother alive. He was not giving up, no matter what. Donatello refused to lose his brother this way. He only hoped it wasn't too late…

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><p><span><strong>AN:**** Yay, Leatherhead's okay and Raph's awake! I such a nice authoress, right? Oh...that wasn't how you all wanted him to wake up? You mean I'm really cruel to dangle his first moments of consciousness just to snuff that out right afterwards? Whoops, I must have gotten the wrong impression XD Yes, yes, I know I'm evil. I might just enjoy being so a little too much. This is the only way I can test the waters on what evil's like, yanno. It's a unique experience. Now, feed my review box and maybe I won't be as evil next time? Maybe? :D**


	15. Pawns into Play

**A/N:**** I was seriously debating holding off on this chapter to revise it some more. As it's already drastically rewriten from it's original version...I ended up deeming it worthy for posting. This chapter could easily block me from finishing this fanfic and I really don't want to do that to my readers. Especially as this fic's finished in hand-writen format! You know what that means? Yep, I can get these chapters out faster now! There's three chapters left before the end (not including this one). Hopefully you'll enjoy the ending I have planned. :)**

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><p>Agent Bishop relaxed back in a desk chair as he watched the CCTV footage from multiple screens. He could see the whole of the facility from one location, but the turtles' movements currently eluded him. He flipped through the channels, hoping to spot either Leonardo or Michelangelo on another feed. They have to show up sometime. This, Bishop knew to be a fact. With Donatello on his side, they had no hope of evading every camera.<p>

He pressed the button for the intercom system to allow his voice to once again fill the corridors. "Attention! I have given you time to process my previous message by now, turtles."

He turned his gaze to the monitors depicting the room where he left Casey Jones. The man was just beginning to regain consciousness, judging by his sloppy movements. "Mr. Jones is running out of time."

He smiled as he finally caught sight of a flash of green on one of the screens: the supply room for Lab C. "He's waiting for you just two doors from your current location. You may want to hurry."

He released the intercom button and locked his gaze on Casey's cell. It would not be long now. Soon, all the pieces would be in place. There was no time for error. He moved his digital watch into view and spoke the command that would determine the final fate for the turtles. "Access remote directory, permissions: Bishop. Code name: BRAIN Scan. Initiate command: Delta." His watch replied with a successful beep. _It_ was coming.

Bishop never turned his eyes away from the monitor before him. For his vigilance, he witnessed the exact second Leonardo and Michelangelo entered Casey's room.

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><p>Michelangelo spotted Casey Jones first. With a whispered acknowledgement, he ran over, barely escaping Leonardo's instinctive grab to stop him. "Mikey!" He hissed, frustrated with his little brother. His eyes moved over the room without stepping too far inside. <em>It has to be a trap. So what method is Bishop planning to use?<em> The room was double the size of the cell he had woken up in. This looked more like the viewing area behind an interrogation room's false mirror. It was dark, allowing him to see through the partition separating the two halves of the space. Casey Jones was on the other side of the partition.

Leonardo slowly approached the glass, still not ready to trust the room to be free of booby-traps. Michelangelo banged on the glass, intermittently yelling out Casey's name to get the man's attention. It obviously wasn't working. "Mikey, I think it's sound-proof," Leonardo quietly said stopping his brother's next attack on the glass. He frowned at Casey's bloody face as the man stumbled to his feet, looking everywhere but at them. He couldn't see them, either.

"We have to get to him somehow!" Michelangelo said, turning to Leonardo with anxiety clear on his face.

Leonardo was about to respond, when a sharp noise interrupted him. He whirled towards the door with wide eyes. The door was sealed when he knew he had left it open. Michelangelo ran over to it and yanked on the handle.

"It's no use! We're locked in!" he yelled, giving the door a few more tugs for good measure.

"I knew this was a bad idea!" Leonardo glared at the door for a couple more seconds before turning to better inspect the counter sitting flush against the glass divider. "Get back over here, Mikey. Bishop's got a com system set up. We can at least help Casey get out."

He didn't look at Michelangelo as his brother joined him. Leonardo located the correct button and held it down as he spoke in the microphone. "Casey?"

"Leo?" Casey's voice came through a speaker imbedded in the console. "Where are ya?"

"On the other side of the glass. Mike's with me."

Michelangelo pushed Leonardo aside to talk, "What happened to your face, dude?"

"Fucking Bishop happened. He broke my damn nose." Casey wiped the blood with his sleeve, barely making a dent in the mess of his face.

Leonardo took back control of the microphone with a pointed look at his brother. "Is there a way out that you can see?" he asked Casey.

The man shook his head. "Tha door ain't gotta handle."

A small beeping alerted Leonardo something was very wrong. He quickly jumped, but it was too late to find the source. An explosion rocked the room, sending a blast of heat and sound roaring towards the two turtles. Glass shattered behind them. Leonardo was out before he hit the ground.

* * *

><p>Back at the lair, neither Donatello nor Leatherhead wasted a second in their efforts to keep Raphael alive. Each minute that passed was a dizzying cacophony of movement. All through those harrowing minutes, Leatherhead cursed the <em>demon<em> responsible. His beastly side reveled in the thought of tearing his teeth into Bishop's flesh. It was all he could do not to lose himself in his musings.

"I've done all I can," Donatello quietly said. It didn't sound like he was talking to Leatherhead.

The crocodile looked at him, distracted from his morbid thoughts. Donatello was leaning over his brother, arms straight and loosely fisted on the edge of the cot. His head was turned away as if distraught. It was a despairing sight; one Leatherhead hated to see. _Bishop will die for what he's putting my friends through._

"He has a chance to live now. Raphael will not give up willingly." Leatherhead watched as Donatello's fists flexed.

"He'd better live." Donatello didn't look up.

"Donatello?" Leatherhead waited for his friend to meet his eyes before he continued, "You are not going to be condemned by your coerced actions. You have much going for you. Even now, your brother escapes certain death because you broke through the AI's control." _You have more of a chance in fighting your demons than I do._

Donatello didn't respond. He looked distracted. His body turned tense before he turned towards the open door. "I… No…!" He tensed again, turning mostly away from the door.

Leatherhead moved around the cot to get a better look at his friend. He barely got close, before Donatello took off. "Donatello?! Where are you going?" Leatherhead thundered after him.

The turtle didn't respond or slow down. It did not take him long to come to a conclusion. _Again? That program is relentless. I hope I did not give him false hope…_ Each time he had to witness the AI steal his friend enraged him. He wasn't waiting any longer. As soon as he caught Donatello, he would find a safe way of removing the AI. Already, he thought on what he knew and how he could succeed.

Donatello was faster than him. Leatherhead had trouble keeping him in his sights. He just couldn't get his large body to run any faster. He didn't stop moving as he pulled out the shell-shaped communicator from his belt. His com was larger than the turtles and more durable. Donatello had made it to fit his needs. He frowned at it before disconnecting the Bluetooth headset. It was time to make a call. He dialed the rarely used number and clipped the cell back on his belt. He adjusted the headset as he waited for a response.

* * *

><p>Splinter took his time in the air ducts of Bishop's building, taking care not to make a single sound. The ducts were narrow to the point where he struggled to make progress. He felt a need to hurry. He paused only long enough to try Michelangelo's cell for the fourth time since he arrived. All he received was his son's obnoxious voice mail message. Something was very wrong.<p>

His cell beeped in the headset still sitting on his head. His first thought was of Michelangelo finally returning his call. He eagerly pressed the call button: "_Hai?_"

"Splinter, there is a problem," Leatherhead's voice came instead. "Donatello has run off. He may be heading towards you."

The flutter of hope diminished in seconds. "Bishop?" Splinter whispered with an edge of malice for the Agent he knew must be the cause.

"I believe so." Leatherhead sounded disheartened. "You are inside the building?"

"Yes. I do not believe my presence is known yet." Splinter looked down through the grate on the floor of the air duct. The room below him appeared to be a laboratory designed specifically for dissection. The sight of it made his skin crawl. He shook away nightmarish thoughts of his sons strapped to the tables below. "I have been unable to contact Michelangelo. I fear what that may mean for my sons."

"I will come to assist. Donatello's actions have caused me to fear what Bishop has planned for your sons."

"Then you can meet me by the garage door entrance. I will loop around while I gather all the information I can." He disconnected the call and traveled further through the vent. His nose picked up a residual scent of smoke wafting through the vents. He paused only long enough to orient himself to its source. He quickened his pace.

Splinter heard a man before he reached the grate. He recognized the voice immediately: Casey Jones. The man was intermittingly cursing with the cacophony of banging. Splinter peered into the room through the grate. Glass and metal littered the ground below. He slid the grate off and dropped from the ceiling vent.

"Splinter?" Casey noticed him as soon as he hit the ground.

Splinter looked over at him through what used to be a glass partition. The man looked disheveled and anxious. "Where are my sons?"

"He got 'em." Casey opened his fist, revealing a scrap of orange fabric. "That bastard blew them up right in front a' me!"

Splinter closed his eyes as rage threatened to break his stoic expression. "They are still alive…somewhere." He turned towards where a door used to be. "I will not leave without them." He started towards the hallway.

"Hey, wait up!" Casey stumbled after him.

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><p><strong><span>AN: Well there you have it! It may be a collection of short scenes, but the next chapter should leave you on the edge of your seat for the conclusion! That is, if you're anything like me ;) Now feed that comment box! It's all lonely~.**


	16. Televised Victory

**A/N:**** Okay... It's my lazy fault for not getting this typed up. The story's basically finished on paper. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

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><p>Agent Bishop walked through the halls with a patient air. The plan was working to his advantage, as it should. There was no need to rush the final moments. As he navigated the halls, his men were destroying the turtle's communication devices. They were no longer needed. The final test would determine just how effective the program is. Any failures would need to be fixed before he could move on to perfecting his super soldiers.<p>

He stopped in front of an electronically sealed door and glanced up at the facial recognition scanner hidden above it. The door opened with a click. He stepped inside and the door latched behind him.

The room was nearly identical to Leonardo's original holding cell. The only difference was the large LCD screen spanning the width of the opposite wall. Bishop passed the tilted examining table to stand before the monitoring system. A low groan sounded behind him, alerting him to the consciousness of his guest.

"Your hearing may be compromised from my concussive blast, but there is hope it will not distract you from the show." Bishop didn't glance at the prisoner. He clasped his hands behind his back as he prepared for the monitor to reveal its secrets.

"What show?" Leonardo's voice was louder than normal, most likely the result of his diminished hearing. "…What did you do with Mikey?!"

"_I_ didn't do anything and I can assure you it will stay that way." Bishop kept his voice slow and clear.

"Where is he?!"

The monitor flickered on before Bishop could answer. He pulled his sunglasses down his nose to look over them. "There." He needn't say more. The screen showed a full color image of Michelangelo strapped to a matching examining table. The room was larger than Leonardo's with rolling tables displaying all that would be needed for dissection. The turtle on screen was stripped of his gear, creating a faux vulnerability.

Behind Bishop, his prisoner jerked against his binds.

"There's a reason I'm allowing you to see this," Bishop said.

"You better not hurt him!" Leonardo roared at him.

"I said I won't." The corner of Bishop's mouth twitched as if to smile. "No, that's Donatello's job. If all-"

"You bastard!"

Bishop cleared his thought at the interruption before continuing, "If all goes well, the human race will have a new weapon to defend our planet from the alien menace; one that will not hesitate in fear or indecision." As he spoke, he turned to his prisoner to catch the turtle's disapproval.

Behind him, the large monitor depicted Donatello's entrance. Leonardo's abrupt change of expression revealed the arrival before he turned to face the screen himself. Everything was working out perfectly. He watched as Donatello made his way into Michelangelo's view. There was no sound, but the expression on the blue-green turtle allowed the viewers a guess at what was said. Michelangelo's speech pattern appeared rushed as Donatello turned his back on the camera. Bishop watched the scene unfold before him without a care to Leonardo's reaction. He didn't have to see his prisoner to know this was hard for him to watch.

* * *

><p>"Yanno, since you're here and all… These straps are kinda tight, bro." Michelangelo forced a smile for his brother. "Mind helping me out here?" He shifted in his binds. He hated the look in his brother's eyes. It was only made worse when he knew what Donatello was capable of in this state. He could do anything! Michelangelo hoped what his mind was telling him was false. <em>He won't hurt me. He can't. Right…?<em>

Donatello was silent as he stared just to Michelangelo's right. He looked so lost and indecisive. His eyes moved to the table littered with sharp objects that Michelangelo really didn't want to think about. Donatello fisted his hands.

"You really don't have to do this. You didn't before." Michelangelo cringed away from the sight of the table. "Donny, just untie me and we can get out of here. Please?"

Donatello's eyes narrowed. Michelangelo wished he knew what his brother was thinking about. _I'm probably worried over nothing…_ That was what he thought until his brother picked up one of the table's contents: a small rotating saw.

"You're not going to use that on me, right? It's cool if you use that to free me. That's what you're going to do, right, Donny? You're going to free me?" Michelangelo smiled nervously. It wasn't right that he was afraid of his own brother. If he didn't know of the AI holding the reins, he wouldn't be. How can he fight against a robot using his brother's skin? It just wasn't right. _There _has_ to be a way to help him…somehow._

Donatello lowered the saw and turned away. "Mikey…" His voice was soft and nearly inaudible against the ringing in Michelangelo's ears, but it was purely his. Michelangelo noticed the hollow pain. "We're not cutting you loose." Then it was gone. The AI was back in play. "Don't worry, _little brother. Donny_ wants it painless. I'm contemplating over allowing this plea. It will reach the same end." Donatello's face twisted into a sneer that didn't reach his eyes. He laid the saw down and took out a syringe instead.

"Donny!" Michelangelo's eyes followed the syringe as it moved towards him. "Fight it! Please! I know you can do that! Tie yourself up again if you have to!" He winced as the needle pierced his arm. "No!" He tried to jerk away from it, unsuccessfully.

"We're not stopping," Donatello said. His hands shook only slightly as his finger pressed down on the plunger.

Michelangelo stared at the clear liquid entering his arm. His mouth gaped open, unable to believe this was happening to him. He didn't think his brother would actually drug him in enemy territory! He grew anxious as he pondered the horrors that could happen while he was under the drug's influence. He would be utterly helpless to stop it.

"Good night, little brother."

Michelangelo could feel the drug begin to tug at his consciousness. His eyelids grew heavy as he tried to focus on his brother. "Don't hurt me…Donny…" Michelangelo muttered. "…Trust you…" He finally gave into the drug with a sigh.

* * *

><p>Leonardo refused to watch the nightmare playing out before him. He needed to get free. He fought the overwhelming urge to see if Donatello would follow through. He had to believe his brother was stronger than that, but if he wasn't, Leonardo planned to intervene. He squeezed his hand past the leather restraint silently. It was easier to ignore the discomfort this time. This wasn't just for himself anymore.<p>

In minutes, he found his freedom once again. _Never take your eyes off your enemy, Bishop. Especially when the enemy's a ninja._ He slid to solid ground, taking a single step to keep his balance, before launching at Bishop.

The federal agent turned mere seconds before Leonardo collided with him. The LCD screen shattered over them as Bishop backed into it, his hand grasping the turtle's neck. Leonardo kept Bishop's arm bent as his own arm pressed into the neck of the agent. Leonardo glared at Bishop, fueled by a rage that he usually kept at bay. "You _will_ remove that device from my brother. You may be right that we can't, but I know _you_ can."

"Why would I do that?" Bishop pushed against Leonardo's neck. As the turtle jerked away at the pressure, Bishop landed a solid kick into his plastron.

Leonardo managed to remain on his feet – just in time to catch Bishop's fist barreling at him by the wrist. Without pausing for breath, Leonardo turned into Bishop, twisting the agent's arm until he heard a resounding crack, followed shortly by his elbow smashing into his enemy's face.

As Bishop stumbled back, he grabbed Leonardo by the scutes of his carapace, yanking the turtle back and around. "I don't understand why you even try at this point," Bishop remarked as he watched Leonardo steady himself against the broken monitor. "You are irrefutably trapped here with me. Even if you could break past my security, you would never make it in time. As of now, Donatello has already begun the dissection. Michelangelo cannot be saved," Bishop concluded as he slammed the rolling lab table at Leonardo before the turtle could fully recover.

Leonardo grunted at the impact, his head slamming back into the shattering glass. He narrowed his eyes against the threat of unconsciousness and closed his fist around a fallen shard of the glass. His silence was fueled by an increasing rage.

"There's no room for failure." Bishop slowly approached Leonardo's slumped form. "How can Donatello resist the programming when I can permanently sever his mind from his body?"

The rage was festering as Bishop spoke, but Leonardo waited. Though his hearing was still unreliable to judge his enemy's distance, he had his sight. As soon as Bishop's feet entered his vision, he leaped into action. He yanked Bishop's good arm towards him and slashed at it with the shard. Blood splattered out of the wound, but the fight wasn't over.

Bishop quickly retaliated by slamming his knee into Leonardo's beak. Again, the turtle slammed into the broken monitor. He could feel blood sliding down the back of his neck. Still, he refused to be beaten. He pushed off the wall and spun a kick at Bishop. He still held the shard in his bloody hand as he pursued the agent. "No," Leonardo said. "I'll stop you."

Bishop back-pedaled to the door, one arm limp at his side and the other poised to strike. Leonardo was ready for it. When the agent did strike, the turtle twisted away and grabbed the offending arm by the wrist. Leonardo jerked Bishop off-balance, right into his chest, before the turtle's other arm snaked around the agent's neck. The shard pressed against Bishop's unprotected neck.

"This reminds me of something," Leonardo whispered against his enemy's ear. "Specifically when you made Donny do this to Raph."

"That was the AI. Not me," Bishop amended. "And the shard was _thrown_ at Raphael."

The shard burrowed deeper until it pierced the skin. "It was still you," Leonardo said firmly. "The door?"

"Facial recognition." Bishop tipped his head, minimally, towards the small sensor above the door.

"Perfect." Leonardo forced Bishop to look up at the sensor. In seconds, the door swished open. He planned to finish Bishop off then, but the agent had other plans. Bishop stepped down on Leonardo's bare foot and the turtle instantly recoiled. It was enough to allow Bishop to pull away and disappear down the halls.

_There's no time to chase him down. _Leonardo took his own path through the halls. He needed to get his bearings and find his brothers. He only hoped he was not too late.

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><p><span><strong>AN:**** There you have it! I even feel okay about the fight scene in it now. Maybe I'm getting better? Well, the review box is probably starved by now. Feed the box and I'll try not to be lazy again :)**


	17. I pray the Lord My Soul to Take

**A/N: So I might be on a roll. I'm tempted to blame it on my broken laptop. This chapter is all done on my cell. You can imagine how difficult that might be. Anyway, the end's almost here! Enjoy!**

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><p>Donatello watched his brother slip unconscious. This shouldn't be happening. He shouldn't be so helpless to stop the horror he was soon to witness. He felt trapped; near weightless. It was as if his body was floating somewhere above the ground. It just didn't feel real; couldn't be.<p>

He watched his hand pick up the saw from the table. He was a spectator. If he didn't see the saw in his hand, he could believe it wasn't real. It was disorienting. He barely noticed how close the saw was to his brother. _No!_ Fear twisted in his gut as he fought the invisible binds.

"Stop trying, Donny. It's no use. He won't feel a thing," the AI said.

The saw was powered on. The metallic hum only strengthened Donatello's resolve._ Let go of me!_

"And fail in the eyes of my programmer's financial backer?" The BRAIN tsked. "The human might pull the plug on us both. We don't want that. A new host is always an option for me, but I've enjoyed learning from you. I don't want to lose this." The saw paused just above Michelangelo's plastron.

_I'd rather die then kill my brother!_ Donatello was so close to stopping the monster in his head. He could feel it.

"We don't have to kill him. It's like a surgery. He'll be fine once we sew him back up.". Donatello's beak twisted into a grin..

_Yeah, just like Raph's fine, right?_ Donatello's response was laced in sarcasm.

"He's still alive. I let you fix his bandages in time."

_That's not going to work anymore. You're just talking in circles. You want me to loosen my guard so you can kill Mikey! This ends now!_ Donatello jerked the saw away from his brother. "You're through!"

_Your will can surprise me sometimes, I admit. Still, you're way out of your league. I'm restricted in what I can do to you. It's written in my programming. Bishop, on the other hand, can turn you off so you can never fight me again. If you give in now, you can still have your moments of freedom._

"Why should I believe a single word you say?" Donatello's eyes narrowed.

_I only want what is best for us. I would hate to see your spirit crushed. It would get too boring in here._

"I'd rather be rid of you." Donatello felt the back of his neck where the skin was slightly raised and scarred over. The spot was mostly hidden by his carapace. This was where the robotic bug resided.

_That almost tickles. What, are you planning to just tear me out? You know that would leave you paralyzed, right? I can see how that would be unpleasant for you._

"We'll see..." What Donatello did plan to do, however, was interrupted by the sounds of pandemonium outside the cell. _What's going on now?_

_It appears to be another attempt to free your brothers. They just don't give up._

Donatello walked over to Michelangelo and removed his restraints. He easily pulled his brother over his shoulder and walked towards the door.

_You want to join the fight. Of course. The door won't open for you. I'm programmed to deny you access unless I'm in control._

"That's not going to happen." Donatello searched the room for another way out.

_So you enjoy the idea of being locked in here forever?_

"I'm not letting you take control again!"

_So you admit you fear that you may be too weak to fight me off a second time?_

"I don't fear you," Donatello firmly stated as he found the facial recognition scanner. "I'm just not giving you a chance."

_I'm not your enemy. I was born from your memories. I'll prove that to you._

The door opened with a click. Donatello stared at the open space for a full minute. "...This doesn't mean I'll trust you. You're still going to be destroyed." With that, he left the cell.

_You'll change your mind eventually. You'll see. We're stuck together, no matter what._

Donatello ignored the AI as he followed the sounds of fighting down the hall. He recognized Leatherhead's roar even though the owner was still out of sight. He needed to get there for Michelangelo's sake. His brother would remain unconscious for another hour. It wasn't safe for him here.

His first sight of the battle was a beaten Casey flying out in front of him, narrowly avoiding the sharp corner of the hallway's branching paths. Donatello ran to check on his condition, but Casey was already getting back to his feet by the time he reached him.

"Donny!" Casey said as he noticed the turtle. "Is Mike alright?"

"Unconscious, but otherwise unhurt." Donatello pushed his brother into Casey's arms. "Get him out of here. The drug wears off in an hour. He can't remain here like this."

Casey held the turtle with little effort as he looked Donatello over. "You ain't actin' all evil right now?"

"Not at the moment. Hurry, Casey. And...say hi to April for me. Keep her company."

"I haven't had my rematch with Bishop yet." Casey's face darkened.

"I'm sure you'll get a chance later." Donatello ran off before he got a response. As he turned the corner, the rest of the fight came into view. He could see Leatherhead easily above the crowd. Quick glimpses of Splinter's garb peeked through the barrage of people. The rest were men in black suits using Federation guns scavenged from an old alien invasion. He couldn't see Bishop or Leonardo. He could only hope that didn't mean anything bad.

Donatello pulled his bo staff from its holster as he ran into the thick of the battle, knocking away Bishop's men as he went. "Sensei!"

"Donatello?!" The rat's ears perked to the sound of his son's voice, but he didn't lose focus. "You are yourself?"

"For now," Donatello answered as he fell into step beside his father. "I ran into Casey first. He's taking Mikey to safety. Do you know where Leo is?"

"I have not seen him." Splinter dispatched the men around him with practiced ease.

"Neither have I," Leatherhead added from behind them.

"What happened to Michelangelo?" Splinter asked.

"...He's been drugged." Donatello avoided his father's gaze under the pretense of knocking a gun out of an agent's hands with a spin of his staff. The man went down like a sack of potatoes after a well-placed hit with his bo staff. "He should be fine in an hour's time."

With Donatello's assistance, the fight was ended quickly. He held his bo staff ready as he hunted down the remaining agents. Leatherhead took out the last with an almost careless swing of his muscled arm.

"Now we just need Leo and we're out of here." Donatello said as he finally sheathed his staff.

"Not so fast. I won't let this be a waste of my time." Bishop spoke up from behind Donatello. The three turned to face the agent with weapons and claws at the ready.

"Where is Leonardo?" Splinter asked.

Bishop flicked away blood dripping from a cut on his neck with his left hand. It wasn't the only injury the agent had. Donatello was curious how they came to be. "He's in the building," Bishop finally answered with a careless wave of his hand. "I see you've allied yourself with your old acquaintances again, Donatello. I assume you did not finish my task?"

Donatello's eyes narrowed at Bishop as he moved to attack, but Splinter beat him to it. He watched his father slice his single katana through the air with something akin to fury. Bishop dodged to the side, but his injuries slowed him down. The downward arc of the katana bit through a layer of his skin from his head and shoulder. Blood freely dripped from the fresh cuts.

_Protect Bishop._

"No!" Donatello roared aloud even as he stumbled forward. His hands gripped the side of his head as he fought the AI's control.

His words were enough to give Splinter pause. Donatello could barely see his father step back from Bishop. He barely felt Leatherhead's arm move around him. Resisting the AI's will was far more painful than usual.

"Interesting." Bishop's voice was the only thing outside that was clear to Donatello. It was as if he had joined the voice in his head. "Still so much fight left."

"Release my son, Bishop!" Splinter's voice was distant.

"Strike me again and I will kill him. I can always find a new subject."

Donatello felt a fire burning in his chest. His breathing hitched with each breath. All the while, his head threatened to split open. He was in agony.

"This won't do. I can't have disobedience. It's time I take free will out of the equation."

_I warned you, Donny. You should have listened to me. You're so selfish. We could have been friends. Now he's going to cripple you. You see what you've done?_

"Stop!" Donatello yelled as his vision darkened.

* * *

><p>Leonardo grabbed the duffels carrying the medical equipment . It was luck that he even found them. It was the kind of luck that he needed right now.<p>

The first place he found after escaping the cell was a security room. He immediately checked the CCTV cameras. It was only then he could finally let go of the breath he had been holding. There was Donatello carrying Michelangelo out of the lab. His brothers seemed to be ok. At least there was no blood.

Searching the rest of the room revealed more than just the duffles. His and Michelangelo's gear, excluding their shell cells and Leonardo's katana, were tucked away in the same cabinet. It was a perfect time to join the battle in the halls.

With practice ease, he had his gear on, ending with a quick knot of his mask. He added his brother's stuff to the duffle and swung that over his shoulder before heading out. He wished he had a cell to inform his allies of his escape, but it would have to do.

The battle wasn't taking place too far away from the security room. The sounds of fighting had stopped minutes ago. Then he heard Donatello yell out. The sound of it got him running. Words were replaced with screams of pain and anguish. Leonardo hoped there was something he could do when he arrived to help his brother.

He forced himself too slow to a walk as he neared the final steps. He could see the back of Bishop's head now. The fresh injuries caught his eyes first before he took in Bishop's hands.

Leonardo could see a digital watch in Bishop's left hand held behind his back. He seemed to be fiddling with it, having minor difficulty as his other broken arm hung limp at his side. As Leonardo quietly approached, his gaze landed on Splinter's bloody katana before their eyes met. His father broke eye contact to look at Donatello. That was when the full scope of events clicked into place for him.

Donatello was screaming and pressing his hands to his head. Only Leatherhead's firm grip on him kept the turtle from keeling over from whatever was ailing him. Leonardo came to the conclusion that it was caused by Bishop's watch.

Leonardo pulled a shuriken out of his newly recovered belt and flung it at Bishop's watch, nicking his fingers. The aim was perfect. Bishop jerked forward a step as he searched out the source of his sudden pain. The shuriken was yanked out of the watch as Bishop whirled to face Leonardo. The turtle only glared back as silence fell.

"That was a mistake, Leonardo!" Bishop said. "You could have killed your brother. That remote kept the AI under control!"

Leonardo listened to Donatello's shaky breathing for a little longer before responding. "It couldn't be working all that well from what I found in the last half hour."

Splinter pointed his katana at Bishop's back. "How do you safely remove the device?"

"Remove it?" Bishop tipped his head towards Splinter. "You can't." He smirked.

All Leonardo had as weapons were secondaries and Michelangelo's nunchaku. He held a shuriken in each hand ready to throw with a second's decision. "There's a way, and you _will_ tell us."

"But you broke my remote. I can't stop the AI from shutting down Donatello's free will now."

"That's not entirely accurate, Bishop," Donatello spoke up. Leonardo turned to see him standing with Leatherhead's help. There was something off but eerily familiar about his stance. "I have one too. You didn't think I would give you the only remote to _my _creation did you?"

"Stockman," Bishop nearly growled.

Stockman laughed through Donatello. He swatted Leatherhead away and took a few steps toward Bishop. "You wanted to replace me. I couldn't let that happen. So I think I'll just replace myself instead. I have to thank the turtle for destroying the only thing standing in my way!" A brief look of pain flashed behind Donatello's eyes. Splinter's sword dipped as he and Leonardo watched Donatello approach Bishop.

"Release Donatello!" Splinter demanded.

Donatello paused, turning to face the sensei. "No. I believe this will make a satisfactory body. It comes with an added protection from you abominations." He picked up a dropped Federation gun. "First order of business..." He aimed the gun at Bishop and pulled the trigger.

Bishop jerked but didn't make it completely out of the way. The laser shot hit his shoulder, sending him tumbling back. Leonardo ran over to stand beside his father, his face barely showing his stunned confusion. Donatello turned the gun on Splinter and paused.

"Don't follow us. This may be something you want to be spared from witnessing." Donatello's tone had changed to the AI's voice before the gun was lowered and he took off.

Leonardo was not planning to listen to the warning. Splinter caught his eye and handed over his katana. "We will follow behind," the rat said as he bowed his head. Leonardo bowed back before taking off after Donatello.

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><p><span><strong>AN: ****Now you know the drill. The review box needs its treats for its troubles!**


	18. Torment's End

**A/N****:**** About time I got to finishing this. To be honest, I was a little worried about the conclusion of Bishop and Stockman's evil plan. That and limited access to a computer. But the conclusion is here! This isn't the final chapter. The last scene just deserved its own place. That's also finished. I just sent it to my beta. Enjoy!**

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><p>Donatello's feet took him through the halls as quickly as Stockman demanded. The AI heard the footfalls close behind his host; a fact he neglected to inform Stockman. The dilapidated human would find out soon enough.<p>

It could feel Donatello's anguish heavy on its processor, the raw emotion still coursing through him. They were as much a part of the BRAIN as it was its host. That was the nature of the symbiotic relationship it evolved with. The sheer force of will Donatello had was something the BRAIN grew to respect. _You know what Stockman plans for you will not be pleasant._

_Of course not. It's Stockman._

The AI paused at the rage behind the thought of its host. _Calm down, Donny. I don't want Stockman in our head as much as you. It would get too crowded. My processors could burn out and then we'd both die._

A derisive sound came from its host. _I don't trust you._

The AI tipped Donatello's head to better hear the following footsteps. He didn't allow for the pursuer to be noticed by the hacker. _Then maybe I can change your mind._ There was a door ahead that opened at Donatello's touch. He hurried inside, pausing as the AI made sure the door would stay open long enough to admit his pursuer.

The room was dark, illuminated only by rows of computer monitors. Donatello stepped further into the room, pausing when he reached a dark shape broken up by flashing lights. Movement to the left of the structure caught their attention. There was Stockman's brain in the robotic body. Wires connected him to what the AI understood to be a part of itself: the mainframe.

"You want to merge with us?" The AI asked. "I don't recommend it. There's an 88.99% chance it will crash my system."

"I created you. I know the risks," Stockton replied with the aid of his voice software.

"So you're aware the procedure will kill my host if I crash?" The AI clenched Donatello's fists. "I need this body to function at full potential."

"I could care less if the turtle dies."

"That's why _Bishop_ is more suited to remotely enter my systems." His words brought up twisted emotions: the AI silently cursing Leonardo's actions while Donatello rebuked the thought they shared.

"Plug into the mainframe. You have to follow my orders! I want this over quickly."

Even as Donatello whipped out his bo staff in objection, he could feel the back of his neck burn. His hands shook as the AI was forced to release its control to concentrate better on resisting Stockman. "Your chances of winning are negligible when we both agree, Stockman."

"I have the other remote, remember? I've built it into my systems. You have no choice."

_I'm sorry, Don. This is getting more difficult to resist._ The AI knew if it continued to fight the control for too much longer, a full system crash was inevitable.

_What can Leo do to help?_

The mentioned turtle was watching, ready to strike Stockman when the moment was right. _It's too much stress on my processor to answer that question. Do you have any ideas?_

_Breaking the remote's out of the question..._

_Affirmative._

_Separate Stockman from it? So he can't use the remote?_

_Pass on the message, Don... _The thought was barely finished before Donatello suddenly cried out and fell to his knees. What could only be described as a tentacle made of a mix of organic and robotic materials burst out of the back of Donatello's neck. The serpentine mass quickly found an outlet in the mainframe to connect to. _Hurry, before Stockman's privy to this conversation._

Donatello was too stunned to understand the urgency. His hand reached back to feel his neck, his eyes wide with horror.

_I've grown from what your body discarded. You're fine. Hurry!_

Donatello finally found Leonardo's own stunned form. He pointedly looked his brother in the eyes before sending the message with subtle hand signals. Leonardo nodded to show he understood.

The AI relaxed, slightly. _This will hurt. Prepare for it._

_I don't get why you're helping me._

_Self-preservation. Even if I reboot after I crash, I'll be helpless with you dead._ This fact was all that made sense to the symbiotic robot right now. _I need you._

Any more conversation was abruptly put to an end by a fiery wave of pain that slammed into Donatello through the connection. The arrival of information scattered the AI's thoughts even as it tried to block it. It needed to give them more time.

Almost as quickly as it began, it was over. The AI found Donatello crumpled on the ground. His brain activity was low; unconscious._ Organics... So vulnerable._ The AI curled him up a bit more without a thought to why.

"Donny?" Leonardo's voice sounded above them. The AI looked up at him through Donatello's eyes. "Are you alright? I couldn't take him out any faster..."

"Your brother's unconscious," the AI said as he sat up. "You can put your katana to use and cut my data transfer cable. Anywhere will do. It's just dead organic material and robotic parts we won't need anymore."

Leonardo hesitated before slicing his katana through the air. The AI grunted through Donatello's teeth. "It hurts me, not your brother," it quickly said at Leonardo's look. Donatello took Leonardo's offered hand and got to his feet. "I'll open the door."

"Wait." Leonardo stopped the AI with a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"You want to know why I'm helping as well?" Donatello turned to catch Leonardo's eyes. "Donny did too. I'll tell you what I told him: self-preservation. We can never be separated. I enjoy the freedom of movement and knowledge he has given me.

"Bring Stockman's mechanical body, will you? I don't want that to fall in the wrong hands."

"The remote?" Leonardo gave him a raised brow. "You're giving that to me."

"As you wouldn't dare attempt to control your own brother, I will. I trust you." Donatello turned and approached the door. It opened at his approach, revealing the corridor beyond. There was Splinter, waiting. The Sensei gazed into Donatello's eyes, causing the AI to flinch. It still didn't understand why Splinter held it back. If it wasn't for Donatello's unconsciousness, it was sure control would return to its host right then.

"Your son's fine," the AI stated, pointedly.

"Is Leatherhead running the supplies home?" Leonardo asked. He had come up behind them carrying Stockman's robot body over his shoulder.

"Hai, he is." Sprinter turned to Leonardo. "It is time we leave this building before more trouble arises." The rat turned to lead the way.

Donatello stumbled as the AI followed. Leonardo quickly kept him on his feet. The AI didn't wait to be asked, "The transference fried some of my circuitry. We'll be fine. We just need rest." It waved the two off and followed behind.

Only a few steps later he felt a need to glance behind. In the shadows of an open door, the AI could just make out Bishop's hunched form. The man was watching him. _You had to know this would fail,_ it communicated through the wireless connection to Bishop's earpiece.

"I hoped it wouldn't, but yes. Prototypes always fail the first time out," Bishop replied. "You know they'll try to tear you out."

_They won't. I won't let them._ The AI clenched Donatello's fists.

"Not a complete failure, then."

"...Are you coming?" Leonardo called back.

The AI watched the door close before turning back to Donatello's family. "Yeah, right behind you!"

* * *

><p>Donatello pulled back from his desk with a relaxed smile. The heap of metal and Plexiglas barely resembled what it used to be. Clipped wires stuck out of the mass with no clear direction. The last external controller for the AI was now thrashed.<p>

"How about that?" he spoke aloud; his eyes narrowed at the scrap metal before him. "I'm finally assured my freedom. Now to burn it."

A quiet, nearly hollow, chuckle echoed in Donatello's head.

"I see you approve as well. It's settled then."

"Will you shut up?! I'm tryin' to sleep here!"

Raphael's voice yanked Donatello out of his victorious fantasy. He jumped to his feet and whirled towards the sound of his brother's voice. His chair hit the ground with a clang. "Sorry," he quickly apologized with a wince. Donatello navigated the short walk of his lab to pull aside the flimsy cloth partition separating it from the infirmary.

Raphael propped his head on his elbow to look at him. Donatello suspected the usual morning glare, but all he got was mild irritation. "Still talkin' to yerself like a loon?"

Donatello frowned in response. "Was I?" His eyes caught the loose bandages around his brother's neck. Raphael had come a long way from his close brush with death. The stolen medical equipment saved his life. It was one of many things he wished he could forget. Ever since they escaped Bishop, all of the AI's memories became his as well.

He stepped over to Raphael's bedside, "The AI… I think it's dying. It won't make any more trouble for us. It's over. I suppose now…" Donatello's tone brightened a fraction. "…I just have get used to being the only one privy to my own mind once again. Then I'll finally stop 'talking to' myself 'like a loon' as you so eloquently put."

"Yeah, right." Raphael smirked. "You couldn't if you tried. You'll just be yer normal nerdy self talkin' ta no one as usual."

Donatello didn't smile this time as he retorted, "Only because you don't listen."

"I don't need to. That's all yer job. I only need my sai to get things done."

Donatello sighed as he looked to the ceiling. He couldn't help feeling a bit of cheer at the brief moment of normalcy. He thought about responding, but before he could, a squeal rent the air. Donatello attributed it the hydraulics of the main entrance's door protesting against a forceful entry. His hypothesis was proved correct when a shout rang through the lair.

"Donny! Where is he?"

Donatello turned towards the entrance of the infirmary in time to see Casey Jones burst in. He quickly moved to protect the breakables from Casey.

"There ya are!" Casey didn't seem to care about any of the items in the room as he bounded across the room. His eyes turned from Donatello, apparently the reason he was here, to Raphael. "Raph! How're ya doin', bud'?"

Donatello caught his brother wincing. "Better," Raphael responded before rolling over to face the wall. "Almost forgot how tired I was. Thanks," he griped in a loud whisper.

"What did you want, Casey?" Donatello raised a brow at Casey's appearance. "And just what are you wearing?"

Casey fussed with the old brown suit jacket. "Found this old monkey suit fer cheap at that resale place on 5th."

"The occasion?" Raphael asked the wall.

"April demanded to see you, Don." Casey ignored Raphael's question. "She woke up last night. I went ta see her this morning. She's worried aboutcha. I kinda…caught her up." He pulled at his jacket without looking at Donatello.

Donatello frowned. "You told her everything?"

"Asshat," Raphael grumbled.

"Most of it. She kept askin'. You know how she is." Casey looked up. "So…ya comin'?"

Donatello sighed. "Just…give me a few minutes."

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><p><span><strong>AN:**** One more chapter to go! Get to feeding that review box in the meantime ;)**


	19. A Fire Rekindled

**A/N:**** Here it is: the final chapter. Get ready for some smiles!**

* * *

><p>"Is it clear yet?" Donatello sighed into his headset's microphone. He only received frustrating silence in return. "Casey!" he hissed.<p>

"_Chill, Don. We're almost ready."_

"Hurry, will you? It's freezing out here!" Donatello relaxed against the building's exterior wall with a huff of impatience. He didn't want to be here. He knew April would forgive him no matter what. He wasn't ready for forgiveness. He barely forgave himself. "I have other things I need to do, you know. I can't be up here all night."

"_It can wait."_

"It's only been two weeks. I haven't even started the diagnostics on the security systems! That should be priority." Donatello turned to his eventual entrance point.

"_Even I know yer jus' makin' excuses. You've been grumbling the whole ride ova'! Jus' chill. I know I messed up tellin' her so soon, but it's too late ta back out. Stop bein' such a chicken."_

A deep part of Donatello, possibly the remnants of the AI, agreed with Casey's assessment. He was just being a big chicken.

"_We're ready fer ya! I double-checked and ev'rythin'. It's safe enough, even, fer Shadow."_ The window opened to reveal Casey's victorious grin. "She's still awake, too!"

Donatello slipped in and closed the window behind him. The room smelled faintly of roses and ammonia. The warmth of the room caught his attention next. It was a noticeable difference to the winter breeze outside.

Then he saw April. Her hospital bed was propped up to allow her to see the room better. A thin blanket covered her from above her chest, but still allowed her arms to lay by her sides. Her red hair was a mess fanning her pillow. She smiled at Donatello under a breathing mask fully covering her nose and mouth. She lifted her hand a few inches off the table to wave. She looked so pale and exhausted.

He was so distracted by her, that he practically jumped when his legs were caught in a fierce grip. Donatello smiled down at his attacker with a smile. "Hey, Shadow."

"Hiya, Uncle Donny!" The toddler squealed as she looked up at him with big brown eyes. Her black hair was tied back by twin braids, mostly likely done by Robyn.

Donatello lifted Shadow into his arms to another squeal before approaching April. "It's great to see you awake."

"Like I said before, I knew you'd be alright." He took April's hand and held it in both of his. "Those doctors don't know you like I do."

April chuckled, fogging up the mask.

"How much do you remember?" Donatello asked her.

April tapped away at a laptop that was sitting on a table to her right. Donatello moved so he could read the words. _"Not much about that night. Doctor said the rest of my memory could return eventually. It's all statistics. I might never get that night back. Everything before that is still there. It's just a bit foggy in some places."_ She scrunched up her face as she typed the last.

"The nice doctor said Anony Moss helped mommy get better!" Shadow exclaimed a bit too loudly in Donatello's ear.

"Could you talk a little quieter?" Donatello winced as he covered the affected ear with his free hand. "Otherwise, I'm putting you down."

"No, no, no!" Shadow tightened her grip on him. "I quiet!"

"Shadow…" Donatello tsked. The little girl only giggled. He turned to Casey. "Anonymous?"

Casey shrugged, "That's what they say."

"…Bishop?"

"Impossible. He's dead. Leo had his place burned down with him in it. I don't see why he would, anyway."

"The AI thinks so," Donatello nearly whispered as he turned to face the window.

"It still talk to you?"

"Not…exactly." Donatello didn't elaborate as he refocused on April. She appeared understandably confused. At least she was spared from the AI's games.

"Well, good riddance." Casey turned towards his girlfriend, one hand slipping into his pocket. "I better not find out Bishop somehow came back from the dead and did that. It ain't right. It would hafta be one sick reason fer it."

"Maybe you're right…"

"O'course I'm right. I only wished I coulda taken that bastard down with my own hands." He punched the air to emphasize his point.

April waved her hand to get their complete attention before starting to type. _"Don't hurt yourself, Casey. You might get your chance, but I hope you wouldn't. You don't need to look for a fight. Just leave it alone. It could just make things worse. And Donny? Come here. Give me a hug."_ She waved her hand when she finished to gesture him closer.

Donatello silently handed Shadow over to Casey and reluctantly moved closer to her. He bent down a little to allow April to reach her arms around as much of him as she could. At first, Donatello was stiff in her arms, but she knew to wait. Eventually, he gave in and relaxed into her hug. "I'm sorry…"

April shook her head in dismissal before giving him a soft smile. Donatello pulled away to allow her access to her laptop again. _"None of this is your fault. You don't have to apologize. Just stop frowning like that. It'll be okay. Don't make me pull this mask down and give you a talking to in what has to be a gravelly old man's voice with how long I've been on processed O2."_

Donatello chuckled as he read her words. "I'll try."

"April?"

Donatello turned towards Casey's voice. He caught sight of a small old black velvet box before Casey could tuck it back away in his pocket. It all came together then. _About time, Casey. Weird timing, but what else could I expect from _Casey_?_

Casey took Donatello's place at April's bedside. She watched him, curiously, as he spoke with her. Donatello didn't bother to listen. He knew what was coming. He scanned the room for Shadow and found her playing with a stuffed turtle by a little pink backpack. The turtle had a strip of an old rag tied around its eyes like one of his and his brothers' masks. The rag used to be a dark red, but had lost most of its color, leaving it a dull pinkish hue.

"I see you have your toys here." Donatello knelt in front of the toddler.

"Auntie Robbie let me take them to see mommy with." Shadow dug into her backpack and pulled out another toy, this one older than the turtle. It was a female doll with black hair nearly falling out and a missing eye. Donatello knew it to be the only toy from her birth mother, Gabrielle. Shadow gave the doll a hug before offering it to Donatello. "You can play with Gabby."

Donatello took the doll, hesitantly. This wasn't his thing. He didn't play with toys anymore. This was Michelangelo's job.

Shadow giggled as she moved the stuffed turtle around in front of her. "Ninja Shade and Gabby gonna be best friends!"

Donatello glanced over at Casey and April to see them hugging. Light glinted off the ring newly placed on April's finger. Maybe things were going to be alright. Donatello smiled and resigned to play with Shadow for a little longer. He had the time.

* * *

><p><span><strong>AN:**** I looked up Shadow Jones in the TMNTpedia so I can learn her birth mother's name...only to find she's a blonde. She dies her hair black when she's a teenager. Oh well. I figure I already made the mistake in an earlier chapter so I had to stick with it. I blame the Mirage comics being black and white. How was I supposed to know just from that? Her origin story, the City at War arc in the comics, are canon in this fanfic. I just love mixing the best of all the versions. Maybe my next fanfic will include Irma from the 80s verse all imagined. Maybe some 2k12 elements too, when I get over just how...headdesking the series is... I hate their Mikey the most. UGH! Anyway, please feed the comment box. I'll try to finish more of my fanfics. There may be a sequel coming for this. I already had a few plans to continue Don's story. As I finished this chapter, I thought about adding Karai into the mix. It's an idea in the making. I hope you all enjoyed the conclusion!**


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